The grand ceiling, high enough to comfortably fit a couple of buildings underneath, was adorned with numerous luxurious golden chandeliers.
“We have returned after finishing our battle with the Grand Marshal.”
A massive round table occupied the center of the conference room. On it lay an abundance of golden candlesticks and ornamental daggers.
Seated around the beautifully decorated table were the leaders of the four races forming the alliance: the Elven Queen, the Dwarf King, the Orc Grand Chieftain, and the Human Emperor.
The Elven Queen possessed an astonishing beauty that was hardly believable for someone over a thousand years old, whereas the Dwarf King had a beard as robust and thick as beer foam.
The Orc Grand Chieftain had an imposing physique that intimidated anyone who laid eyes on him, covered with numerous battle scars.
The Human Emperor had streaks of gray in his shoulder-length hair. Clad in attire befitting his title, his eyes radiated intelligence that no amount of lavish clothing could hide.
“Have you returned, noble warrior? So, how did it go with the Grand Marshal…?”
The Dwarf King, the first to speak, sipped his goblet of wine and asked the Sword Saint.
“We failed to capture him, but we managed to procure some of his blood and flesh. I intend to provide these to the Blood Techmages so they can discover his current hideout.”
“Ah… finally! After three years of evading us like a rat, we’ve finally found a lead on him.”
The Dwarf King, visibly moved by the report, held his goblet high, filling the room with his loud voice.
“You seem to lack composure when speaking.”
The Elven Queen, who was over 3,000 years old and known for her sharp wit, glared at the Dwarf King and sharply criticized him.
“Ho ho, you are as rude as ever!”
The Dwarf King merely chuckled and turned to look at the Elven Queen.
“… Hmph.”
The Elven Queen turned her head away from the Dwarf King, as if she found further conversation wearisome.
“Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance? As far as I’ve heard, Grand Marshal Maltiel revealed himself personally. He didn’t send a mere mutant; he appeared himself. You, with your skill, should have been able to prevent his escape.”
The Elven Queen, with her sharp and direct tone, questioned the Sword Saint.
“Some of my subordinates were in danger, leaving me with no choice but to let the foe go.”
The Elven Queen, her piercing gaze emanating regal dignity, eyed the Sword Saint seated beside me and emitted a soft sigh.
“Forgive me if I ask, but how many subordinates were there?”
“A group of five subordinates and one civilian.”
“Were they strong enough that you needed to sacrifice the Grand Marshal to save them?”
“Excluding one, I must confess they weren’t.”
“So, it seems you’ve made a foolish decision.”
The Queen’s harsh words were filled with sharpness, and her voice brimming with irritation filled the expansive meeting room.
“Do you not know how many lives are lost on the continent daily due to the existence of just one Grand Marshal?”
“…I too am questioning this decision. I suspect the warriors present in the battlefield also wished for you to eliminate the Grand Marshal over safeguarding themselves.”
The Orc Grand Chieftain, who had been silently seated at the round table, finally joined the conversation. His deep and resonant voice filled the room differently from the Dwarf King’s outburst.
The Sword Saint, after a moment of apparent discomfort, sighed before speaking.
“…Well, yes. I apologize.”
…?
Seated next to the Sword Saint on a throne-like chair, I found myself looking at him with disbelief, my shoulders hunched. Wasn’t his tone a bit too casual?
“I’m not that smart, I admit. The future is uncertain. But when I see someone in need of help, I can’t just walk away. That’s all there is to it.”
The Sword Saint seemed entirely unashamed of his actions. Despite the criticisms levied by each race’s leader, there was not the slightest change in his gaze.
“Is this really so trivial an issue to be brushed aside easily? You let go of a Grand Marshal! You’ve let slip an opportunity to save countless lives. Didn’t I repeatedly warn you to weigh the importance of each mission?”
The Elven Queen unleashed her sharp reprimands, but it went entirely unheard by the Sword Saint.
“…Well, I just can’t do things that way. I apologize. Let’s do our best to save people in the future.”
The Sword Saint gave a friendly smile, lightly bowing his head to the Queen. It felt like watching a middle-aged man apologizing after brushing against someone on the street — superficially apologizing without any real remorse.
“You understand his character well. However, you are one who holds the future of the continent. You need to think more broadly. Even I agree with the Queen this time.”
The Human Emperor, who had been quietly listening, also cautiously chimed in with the Queen.
“Tss! If you all have so many grievances, why don’t you come fight in place of the Sword Saint?”
The Dwarf King was the only one defending the Sword Saint.
“You!…”
“Well, if you’re so dissatisfied with the Sword Saint’s judgment, why don’t you step out and shoot arrows yourself?”
“Is that what you call a valid argument?”
The Elve Queen stared at the Dwarf King, blinking as if bewildered by his logic.
“While we all rely on the Sword Saint to evade an all-out war with the marauders, pushing too hard for a single mistake seems excessive, doesn’t it? Though letting the Grand Marshal escape is indeed regrettable, does our dear Sword Saint deserve such treatment? That’s inappropriate, in my opinion! What do you say about that?”
The Dwarf King barked at the Queen with his usual gruff voice. Though inappropriate for the conference setting, his words struck at the heart of the matter.
“Even if the Sword Saint is mighty, isn’t it unreasonable to ask a human to abandon his subordinates who are clearly in imminent peril? That’s too inhumane.”
“There is some truth in what you say, but still…”
Thus, the disagreement about the Sword Saint’s decision to let the Grand Marshal escape continued.
I, on the other hand,
don’t really understand why I’m even here.
Can I just leave now?
“…Enough, let’s leave this discussion for later. The Sword Saint, unlike us, has limited time.”
It was the Human Emperor who mediated the argument between the leaders. Recognizing this wasn’t a conversation that could soon conclude, it was decided that the Sword Saint would leave, allowing them to discuss further among themselves.
“There was one more matter today.”
“Yes, I mentioned earlier that I had saved a civilian.”
“And?”
“That civilian is none other than this boy seated next to me, Bin.”
“So?”
The Elven Queen scrutinized me with sharp eyes.
The Sword Saint began explaining me to the four leaders present at the round table.
By his account, though I was a street orphan who had never formally studied magic, I possessed the magical power equivalent to a fourth-tier mage.
I was a prodigy. Despite my mid-tier magical capacity, I had the potential to go toe-to-toe with a Grand Marshal.
My magic was exceptionally powerful and accomplished, so much so that even the Grand Marshal himself emerged to attempt to eliminate me. In short, I was supposedly a once-in-a-century super-genius.
…Why does this keep growing bigger and bigger?
“The Grand Marshal revealed himself solely to kill this boy?”
“For three years, that cunning foe hadn’t left a single trace, and yet…”
“With a magic proficiency that could easily be mistaken for seventh-tier? Rather intriguing. There’s never been a case like this in history.”
“If your claims are true, this boy is certainly a prodigy destined to leave a mark on the era.”
The kings seated at the round table began eyeing me with growing interest.
I feel like I’m going to die.
Would it feel like this if I were eating dinner squeezed between the leaders of America, the UK, China, and Russia? My mind is chaotic, and I can’t even understand their words.
All I did was… sit silently like always.
“If I were given the chance to start over, I would still make the same decision—not just because it aligns with my personal values, but because I firmly believe that saving this boy could save more lives than the Grand Marshal could ever take.”
Bam!
Seizing the moment, the Sword Saint suddenly slammed his hands on the round table, his eyes flashing.
What the hell is he doing?
“You always rescue people, regardless of whether they’re of any value, right? Last time, wasn’t it when you pursued a mere private soldier, ignoring a higher-ranked marauder you should have eliminated?”
“Yes, don’t try to subtly blame the boy’s potential for your own mistakes. Your judgment was a clear error, and a repeated and uncorrected one at that. Let’s table this matter for discussion in the disciplinary committee later.”
The Elven Queen and the Orc Grand Chieftain had clearly seen through the Sword Saint’s transparent tactics.
“…Yeah, understood.”
The Sword Saint reluctantly returned to his seat, clicking his tongue.
“What? Stop being so harsh! Even if the Sword Saint did act without much thought… Look, the outcome wasn’t all that bad!”
“True. If what the Sword Saint says is accurate, this child could save countless lives in the future. Truly limitless potential. If, someday, this boy reaches the current level of the Sword Saint…”
The Emperor allowed the statement to trail off, glaring at the Sword Saint as though giving him a chance.
“Then this war could shift entirely! It’s not just the Demon King—we could even imprison those damn evil demons back into hell!”
Seizing what he believed to be the perfect opportunity, the Sword Saint slammed the table again, strongly emphasizing his words.
“…”
The leaders began murmuring among themselves in response to the Sword Saint’s words.
The end of the war.
The death of the Demon King and the devils.
The century-old ambition that everyone longed for—could it truly begin with this small, white-haired boy brought forth by the Sword Saint?
…The anticipation is almost suffocating.
“Not much time will be needed to reach my level. Considering he’s a blank slate who hasn’t learned anything yet, no later than three years. Within three years, this boy will achieve the same level I’ve reached. I believe losing such a genius would be a mistake.”
Reach the level of the Sword Saint within three years?
Even in my multiple runs through this game, no matter how well I planned my build, it always took at least ten years to reach the upper 90s.
In this bizarre reality, though, it’s more like a month or three weeks.
“…Still, you’re suggesting I become as strong as the Sword Saint within three years?”
Though currently, even the Sword Saint’s party members, who were experts in their respective fields, fell short in comparison to him. The Sword Saint was nothing short of a divine weapon, meticulously honed for humanity’s final battle.
If only there were two Sword Saints, this 30-year-old war would end within three days; if there were three, the Demon King and demons might hang themselves on their own accord, according to popular jest.
A mere three years.
Within three years, I am tasked with leveling a first-level character almost to level 90.
Exploiting loopholes or glitches, shortcuts to rapid leveling—none of those tricks are available.
Because—this is grim reality.
“The Grand General formally requests to officially appoint this boy, Bin, as a general in the allied forces, and that the empire provides him with all necessary support for his development.”
Dedicating myself to study, training, practicing, and enduring.
In this crazy world, this is the sole way to grow stronger.
In three years, I’ll need to become the ultimate human weapon, Mk. 2.
“Can you truly pull it off?”
The Human Emperor, stroking his beard in contemplation, then carefully inquired of me.
“…”
All I could do was regulate my breathing.
And at this point, no matter how much I argue that I’m not a genius, they wouldn’t believe me.
After all, it’s true that the Grand Marshal mistakenly identified me as one, and it’s also true that after fighting the Grand Marshal, I somehow survived with all limbs intact.
No doubt, any attempt on my part to clarify this misunderstanding will only complicate matters further. Just like the Sword Saint.
If the misunderstanding is cleared, what happens next? I’ll be left with nothing as just another street orphan in the capital’s streets.
“…And besides, I must consider that Maltiel will keep targeting my life.”
The Grand Marshal, Maltiel, still mistakenly assumes I’m a prodigious mage.
Given his tenacious and cautious personality, he will certainly return to ensure my death.
If the truth came out—that I’m just a weird half-mage—then I’d have to start from scratch with nothing, without the Sword Saint’s protection or the empire’s support.
…Without a doubt, I’d be killed by Maltiel within three days.
Thus, I had no real choice.
I had to exploit this misunderstanding to the fullest.
The more these people see me as a once-in-a-century prodigy, the more they’ll provide me with all possible support.
I’ll take advantage of their full support to rapidly level up my character at an unprecedented pace.
It’s risky, but the benefits could outweigh the risks.
“…Well…”
As I steadied my resolve and opened my mouth, the image of carts stacked with the corpses of soldiers, swollen and pale, their bony hands still clutching onto their weapons, flashed before my eyes.
“…Screw it.”
Introducing myself here as an odd, half-baked mage would be insulting their sacrifices.
That day, in that forest, they gave everything to save me. Their heroic efforts shouldn’t end in vain because they were misled to think I was some prodigious mage when I’m merely a strange, half-baked one.
I can’t dishonor the sacrifices of those who threw their lives to protect a random, nameless mage that could’ve been left by the roadside.
They should be remembered as true heroes who saved the future of humanity.
“Let me try it. Not that difficult, right?”
With that single impulsive statement,
Today, I became a genius.
