Genius.
A word commonly used to refer to someone with an exceptional talent in a specific field.
Until just about a month ago, the epithet “genius of storm magic” had been used among insiders to refer to Lir, a young elf.
Having reached the 4th Tier at the tender age of nineteen, this prodigious mage had been renowned since early childhood.
Under the tutelage of the remarkable Alter Heinzel, she honed the basics daily and trained diligently, displaying immense passion as she studied through sleepless nights.
Thus, it was regarded as a foregone conclusion that she would become a high-ranking mage of 7th Tier or above in short order.
The veteran members of the Storm School were already speculating excitedly about the reappearance of a 9th Tier storm mage after two hundred years, their thoughts drifting to Lir.
‘Now that I think about it, it’s quite an amusing tale.’
For reasons unknown, but perhaps due to racial characteristics, there have only ever been three elf mages in the history of magic who reached the 9th Tier.
Two from the Aether School, and one from the Flame School.
Before being led by her master to meet the venerable council members at a school exchange conference, Lir had truly believed that she was a mage standing on par with those three rare geniuses in history.
However, that hubris shattered instantly the moment she met and conversed directly with the old council members of the Storm School.
Her unique elf sensibilities detected an underlying unease hidden beneath their excitement.
‘…What unfortunate luck for an elf to have been born with such talent.’
‘If they had been human, they could genuinely have aimed for the 9th Tier.’
‘Rather than this talent being given to her, it would’ve been better bestowed on someone else.’
They looked at her as though she were a thief who had stolen someone else’s talent.
The extreme of the extreme.
The zenith of magic, the 9th Tier.
A genius amongst geniuses, of whom only a few appear each century.
Each one was always human.
For reasons unclear, elf mages, regardless of their talent, invariably ceased growth at the 8th Tier.
Some scholars explained it simply as “human creativity being superior” while others suggested “humans receive more blessing from the spirits.”
However, none of these theories were universally accepted, as none adequately explained the phenomenon.
Anyone would know that elves, who can live for thousands of years, could obviously learn more and experience far more diverse things than humans who struggle to live past a century.
And what is more important to a mage than accumulating knowledge and deep contemplation?
What resource more precious could a mage possibly need other than time?
Yet, in the long history of elves, there have only ever existed three mages who reached the 9th Tier, and even these figures were believed by current scholars to be fictional.
This inexplicable phenomenon, a curse with no discernible cause.
‘…There’s no reason why elves should not be able to reach the 9th Tier.’
Nowhere in the world’s books was there a detailed reason for why elves failed to achieve the 9th Tier.
‘If there’s no valid reason, why does everyone think they cannot?’
Fools.
Lir cursed the old men who pitied her in her thoughts.
Is there really no other explanation than countless failed case studies of promising talents not reaching the 9th Tier?
Past failures do not guarantee future failures.
Just because no one has achieved it yet does not mean she will necessarily fail, and to have such a deterministic mindset belonged to losers.
Fueled by bitterness, Lir devoted herself entirely to her training.
She wanted to crush the arrogance of the Storm School’s elders who had merely looked at her with pity simply because she was an elf and could not achieve the 9th Tier for no real reason.
After that day, she cut all ties with her fellow trainees at the same mage tower, for she no longer needed friends or comrades in her life.
…This all took place when Lir was just six years old.
She concentrated solely on training and studying every day, reaching the 4th Tier mage level at the youngest age any elf had ever achieved in history.
However, there was no time to celebrate this great achievement, for news of another genius reached her ears.
‘A prodigal storm mage who fought on equal terms with a grand marshal at the age of sixteen or seventeen.’
‘A genius who possesses 4th Tier magic power despite never having undergone proper study.’
‘A promising figure who has their name inscribed in the Sword Saint party at such a young age, destined to save the entire continent.’
Naturally, the genius’s race was human.
Feelings of inferiority began to gnaw at her.
The tale that someone human could achieve what she had worked tirelessly, without rest, to accomplish left her feeling sick to her stomach.
The apparent vast gap in talent left her boiling inside, and all her past hard work seemed like trash.
Lir surmised that the subject of these rumors was undoubtedly an arrogant human who considered their own abilities as something natural and deserved.
…Or rather, she hoped they were.
She could hardly bear the thought that a human might possess talent so great that it left no room for imperfection, lest she might not be able to withstand that.
‘They are bound to be an insignificant human.’
She boarded a carriage with her master to meet the face of this ‘genius human.’
‘…Their face will be pitiful, without a doubt.’
Admittedly, she was afraid—afraid that her hopes might be dashed, and that all the years she had spent pushing forward relentlessly might crumble completely.
…And her hopes were indeed dashed, completely.
“Bin, that is my name.”
At a glance, the boy standing before her seemed like a good person. Her elf’s keen senses told her so.
Straightforward eyes that gazed directly at her, a calm and warm voice, even small gestures of care and courtesy.
“…”
However, the world of the “genius of the Storm School” was unshaken.
The boy cheerfully shook her hand, and upon learning she was an elf, greeted her with a radiant smile.
It was a first.
Ordinary humans, seeing her pointed ears, would often, despite her kind approach, cast looks that deemed her a “rude race.”
The elders of the school often gazed upon her pointed ears as though they were a mark of disgrace, their pitying looks a daily occurrence.
But this boy? He seemed genuinely delighted, truly happy to see her pointed ears.
She could tell his smile was genuine, thanks to an elf’s uniquely refined observational skills.
The boy was not disappointed that Lir was an elf mage.
He seemed to rejoice in it even more.
As to why this boy welcomed her so warmly, the reasons didn’t matter.
Because this was the first and only time apart from her master, Alter, that she had met someone who didn’t disdain her for being an elf mage.
And perhaps it was the first time, even including Alter, that she had met someone who truly rejoiced in her elven heritage.
This boy was nothing like how she had imagined.
Unlike what she had hoped, the boy was thoughtful, treating others irrespective of their “race.” Polite, genuine, and someone who sincerely smiled at her…
Even more, the boy had no qualms helping her. When she struggled to make eye contact because of her difficulties in socializing, he instructed her that it was polite to make eye contact while conversing. He lightly pushed her back when she hesitated to apologize.
Despite possessing the kind of talent that could intimidate entire hordes of marauders, this boy showed no arrogance. In fact, the thought of himself as “a genius destined to save humanity” was a burden to him. Though he didn’t outright show it, his worried gaze was something Lir caught.
He was well aware of the heavy weight on his shoulders.
“…Regardless, the location was checked accurately!”
The reason Lir didn’t collapse in tears, sitting in place, after an experience where her poison venom narrowly brushed against her robes and she almost died from the spear of Taurus, was quite simple.
She didn’t want to be a burden to a person as great as this boy.
She didn’t want to be left behind. Though it may be too ambitious, she wanted to walk alongside him as far as possible. And if given the chance, she wanted to share even a little of the heavy burden he carried on his back.
That aspiration was stronger than the fear of death.
What frightened her more than the fear of death was the thought of sitting here, merely watching the boy’s back in the future.
It was terrifying to think she might be too far away to even clap for the fame he would earn for saving the world.
Therefore, Lir’s legs didn’t wobble.
How could a mere magician, someone who couldn’t even fulfill their role in such situations, ever reach the 9th Tier or guard the side of the hope destined to save the world?
“Lightning.”
The lightning that shot from her staff, like her determination, traced a straight and righteous line, hitting the floor.
A grotesque lump of flesh, with countless spider-like legs, shot poison-filled eyes towards her, yet her heart didn’t waver.
Then, the electricity striking the floor shot out in all directions, climbing the walls until it reached the ceiling where it exploded powerfully.
In less than half a second.
An enormous amount of lightning pierced the grotesque lump’s head with immense force.
The wooden arrows embedded in various parts of the monstrous body turned to ash first, followed by its skin peeling off, until the whole poison-filled creature turned to dust.
The lightning on the ceiling poured another tremendous amount of current onto a hidden mutation in the room’s corner.
Bang!
Bang!
The room violently shook with the successive booms.
When lightning strikes, the surrounding temperature spikes to 30,000 degrees Celsius instantly, causing the overheated air to rapidly expand. This expansion generates shockwaves that produce the roaring sound.
This natural phenomenon, often called thunder, was absent from Lir’s lightning.
“…Containment.”
It was because Lir had immediately waved her staff again at the room when the thunder was about to sound.
A faint flow of mana spread from its tip, encircling the room’s walls until a faint barrier effectively isolated the room from the rest of the group.
Containment.
A type of zone-dominating magic that increases the power of electrical magic twofold by encircling the area with walls that conduct electricity well.
Lir had effectively isolated the entire room to ensure no thunder sound escaped.
The containment barrier that Lir created reflected the electrical surges emanating from her electromagnetic field.
Surrounded by lightning again in a bright white flash, the monstrous body burned fiercely.
Irregular flashes of lightning continued erupting within the room. Strangely, the smell of burning flesh and the loud thunderous roars did not escape.
“…This is 4th Tier?”
Rex couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration for the magic that far surpassed the usual caliber of what he had seen from other 4th Tier mages.
The power of “Lightning” was extraordinary, far transcending normal levels. The amplification of its power through Lir’s quiet incantations and her natural talent for “Lightning” were contributing factors.
“…Impressive chain skills.”
What truly caught the eye of the boy with white hair was not the “Lightning” itself but the “Containment” spell that followed.
To fully harness the power of “Lightning” indoors requires two stages.
First, forming an artificial storm above the enemies, and second, channeling the lightning to the ground.
Lir cleverly incorporated the “Containment” spell between the first and second stages.
This not only prevented the thunderous noise from drawing the attention of monsters but also doubled the already formidable destruction power of “Lightning.”
“Did you premeditate this?”
“Huh? No, it just… struck me after using Lightning that making loud noise shouldn’t be an option…”
“…You’re a genius.”
Without premeditation, concocting such a rare skill set on the spot—something only a few renowned users in the community, celebrated for their exceptional control, could execute—was nothing short of ingenious.
The boy had no choice but to compliment Lir so.
But Lir couldn’t even laugh it off upon hearing the boy’s soft words.
“…Because I’ve heard that from Bin, haven’t I?”
Lir frowned and internally cursed the boy with white hair as a “liar.”
“Huh? Did I do something wrong?”
The boy with white hair looked at Lir with a bewildered gaze, but she refused to meet his eyes.
She simply retreated quietly into her robe.
“…”
