There are moments when, from staring at a revolting scene long enough, a headache rises up on its own. If you don't miss that instant and fix your gaze on a part of your body, an arm or a leg, those limbs begin to feel like monstrous creatures that must be killed at once.
At that point, you either hack the flesh apart like a person gone mad, or you strangle your own throat.
When it's all over, all that remains is your own bloodied, wretched self and black magic grown a notch stronger.
So how do you heal a body that's been left a ruin, on the very brink of death? Healing magic fundamentally consumes mana. In other words, it wasn't efficient.
So Teron threw money at it. The 300 gold Leopold had personally pressed into his hand. He bought healing potions so expensive that only a handful of high-ranking nobles could ever own even a few.
Pour the potion over a body on the verge of death and cast healing magic, and Teron Meyer's body returns to its original state.
With only the strengthened black magic left behind!
As a result of repeating this over the summer break, Teron managed to grow strong enough to satisfy his lord.
And so he visited the Precipice once again.
Teron began to get on speaking terms with several black mages, Yuan and Arnold among them. Of those, the ones closest to his lord and the key figures were Yuan and Arnold. Yuan was an information broker, and Arnold was the mage-cum-healer who, in Teron's past life, had led him onto the path of black magic.
He struck a deal with the black mage named Arnold. Arnold was the one who had taken over the work after Daniel died, and his assigned task was luring people to the Precipice. While dealing in drugs and money, he would secretly let slip information about the Precipice as he moved about.
Thanks to Arnold, when people came into the Precipice, the lord would judge whether they were of use. The useless ones he killed and made into offerings; the useful ones he made into his subordinates.
Screening the Precipice's members was extremely demanding work. The lord entrusted such tasks only to those he could trust. Which meant Teron absolutely had to grow close to Arnold. And so, as a means of getting close to his trading partner, Teron chose the fake healing potions he himself had invented.
This was surely where his past-life experience came into play. The fake healing potions he'd developed long ago in his past life produced only about a tenth of the effect of the real thing, yet Arnold would take ten of Teron's fakes and hand over one genuine potion, or an equivalent sum of money.
Teron Meyer set his goals. First, kill at least one black mage before the year was out. Second, properly lay down protective magic over the Academy.
Money he could gather in plenty through his dealings with Arnold, and powerful protective magic he could develop starting now.
Teron planned to realize the second plan once the break ended. He intended to invent a magic circle that fused black magic with ordinary magic to boast a powerful effect.
So he'd spend all day attending classes, doing assignments, and in the time left over he'd keep poring over books to carry on his remaining research into ordinary magic. That was the plan, until...
Leopold Deluah's interference began.
And viciously so.
Teron had no friends. Friends? There wasn't even a single human being who treated him as a person, so what did anyone expect?
So wasn't it only natural? Whether in swordsmanship class or anywhere else, in the moments when a classmate's help was needed, Teron Meyer would, out of long habit, prepare for the evaluation alone, or when he really had time to spare, he'd hole up in a corner and stare at a book.
Today was no different. Earlier Leopold had spouted nonsense about sparring together and such, but honestly Teron thought it was nothing serious.
Today too, after swinging his sword a few times, Teron kept thinking about the book he'd stopped reading earlier, On Large Magic Circles and Ancient Magic, so he crept over to a corner, plopped down, and opened the book.
When he came to his senses, though, what he saw before his eyes was not the book but a pair of glittering water-colored eyes.
“What are you doing? Come here.”
Leopold, personally bending his knees to meet Teron's gaze, spoke softly. Teron, startled, let out a coughing splutter.
“Didn't you agree to spar with me?”
“...”
Once again, stinging stares dug into him from all around. It wasn't just one or two people. Teron snapped at him as if to say get lost.
“I'm busy. Do it with someone else.”
“No. I want to spar with you.”
He stood and held out a hand. When Teron turned away, he forcibly grabbed his arm and pulled.
For an instant, Teron Meyer sank into the terror that the moment he violently threw the hand off, every human in the Academy might come lunging to kill him. Because of that split-second hesitation, before he knew it he was being dragged along by Leopold.
“Let's begin.”
When he came to his senses, he was drawing his sword in front of Leopold. The students, stealing glances, crowded in around them.
“...”
Why do I keep...
ending up in situations like this.
Teron felt something like awe at his own stupidity. No fool would drive himself into a situation like this.
This wasn't the first or second time either; ever since he'd regressed, unexpected things kept happening. If he could show his past-life self the sorry state he was in now, that self would surely realize he'd gone insane and kill himself.
Leopold's naturally tousled blond hair fluttered in the wind. He smiled and whispered.
“Don't worry. I won't let you be humiliated.”
Teron, thoroughly fed up, retorted roughly.
“Your Highness truly never changes. Do you think I'll be pleased just because you go easy on me?”
“...What's the problem now?”
“Never mind. Do as you like.”
Leopold's face went a little pale. Watching for Teron's mood, he quickly changed his tune.
“All right, I'll give it my best. Is that fine, then?”
Honestly, that behavior was just as strange.
When had that arrogant prince ever tried so hard to cater to Teron's whims? He could no longer even be certain whether this had been the fellow's personality all along.
Even so, he could still tell right from wrong. Which is to say he was well aware of just how much Leopold was putting up with.
Teron had behaved far more viciously than in his past life. He'd crossed lines to a degree that would leave him nothing to say even if his neck were cut off a hundred times. The only thing that had improved was his mental age. And yet, the fact that he'd become someone who could hold a conversation with him, this very situation... he could hardly tell whether it was reality or fantasy.
Leopold declared with a resolute expression.
“I really won't go easy. You're sure you won't regret it?”
“Of course I'll regret it. Standing here doing this with Your Highness is regrettable to begin with.”
“Ah... so that's how it is.”
Teron watched Leopold snort out a laugh. Chillingly, he re-gripped his sword. Not a wooden sword, a real blade. During sparring class, real swords were the one exception that was permitted.
Teron Meyer regretted it immediately. Because he could plainly picture his own future, thoroughly beaten and mocked by the students.
“Begin.”
Not wanting in the slightest to begin, Teron jerked his chin as if to say you go first.
Since this too looked utterly insolent to everyone, Teron naturally let the curses reaching his ears about “filthy, revolting, ghastly Teron Meyer” wash over him.
Leopold shrugged as though his pride had been wounded. Then, at once, he raised his sword and charged at Teron.
The gleaming blade grazed past Teron's eyes. Without realizing it, Teron ducked his head and dodged it.
Twisting his body to the side that instant to avoid the second strike, without time to think, he raised his own sword and blocked the third.
Clang! The sound of blades colliding rang out.
The longsword Teron was using wasn't his. It was Academy communal equipment. Teron didn't use swords like that in the first place. The only thing he handled was the assassin's dagger hidden in his coat.
So wasn't losing only natural? Astonishingly, Teron Meyer succeeded in blocking three attacks, but from then on he began to be mercilessly beaten. He barely ducked and got a lock of his hair cut off, lost his sword, and even landed flat on his backside.
Jeering laughter came from all around. Thoroughly disgusted, Teron slapped away the hand Leopold offered. He stayed sitting there on the dirt, listening numbly to the curses, then scrambled to his feet.
Teron said through gritted teeth.
“Your Highness has won.”
The watching students snickered.
“What an eyesore, really.”
“Pathetic. Why on earth did Leopold say he'd spar with that guy?”
“Well, isn't it obvious? He meant to humiliate him.”
“He paid for it dearly, all right. Falling flat after barely taking a few blows.”
“Damn it, I made eye contact with Teron Meyer.”
“Congratulations. You'll be cursed for a while.”
Once Teron vanished back into his corner, the students gradually lost interest and began to focus on their own training.
Teron rotated the wrist he'd strained from forcing himself to cross blades with Leopold.
Then he plopped back down and opened the book he'd been reading. He immersed himself in the magic circle book again.
He'd unfolded a large magic circle once in his past life. He'd studied it just to conveniently move enormous objects. He'd only ever scaled up summoning magic, so now he had to research protective magic.
Protective magic. Could a magic circle for it be laid down on a massive scale?
For instance, over the entire Academy, or the entire royal palace... or even over a person?
This book was all the Academy had for advanced texts on the subject. It explained the principles in fine detail, but something was lacking. Still, this was plenty to be grateful for. Teron chewed over each and every word, deep in thought.
And in the midst of it.
“Just as I thought.”
The range of ancient magic covers roughly one territory- wait a moment, what?
When Teron jerked his head up, the same scene as before unfolded once again. That damnable scene. The one with Leopold right in front of him.
