“Little Flamme, this is Magic to Extend Lifespan.”
Link squatted down in front of her, handing her the scroll containing the spell.
“This will be the first magic I teach you.” Link’s tone was solemn and serious.
Having experienced that past regret, Link had fully learned his lesson: a human’s lifespan was less than a hundred years.
And in those fewer than one hundred years, the things that could be accomplished were pitifully few.
The child before his eyes was destined to walk down that same path—such was the fate of fragile humans.
This time, however, he was going to make Flamme an exception.
“As long as you learn this,” Link looked at her, his voice softening, “you’ll have plenty of time to learn other magic.”
“I’ll work hard to learn it, Master,” Flamme responded solemnly.
She lowered her head, her gaze falling upon the handwriting of the notes, falling silent for a moment.
Master always cares so much about time.
He was always mentioning things like “time is in a hurry,” “human lifespans are short,” or “we need to hurry.”
But he said he’s a dragon.
Aren’t dragons a long-lived species?
Flamme had read in some old scavenged books that dragons could live for a very, very long time.
Because of that, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around it: why would a long-lived being care so much about time?
Yet she didn’t ask it out loud.
She simply thought to herself: Anyway, as long as I believe what Master says, it can’t go wrong.
In the Central Lands, near Shiganshina.
Serie walked barefoot along the road leading toward the Sword Village.
Her mana was more than sufficient to support her flying across the entire continent; in terms of her mana reserves, it didn’t even count as a real exertion.
Even so, she still chose to walk on foot, simply feeling that while using magic could certainly speed things up a lot, it would also cause her to miss out on interesting occurrences along the journey.
As she walked, an orange-red shadow landed silently upon her shoulder.
Serie tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.
The Stollenwerck wasn’t startled; it merely perched quietly on her shoulder, its sharp beak firmly holding a rolled piece of letter paper.
She recognized that bird—after all, on this entire continent, there was only one person who would use a Stollenwerck to send letters.
Reaching out to take the letter, she unrolled it and scanned through, her gaze lingering on the very first line.
“Serie, my dearest friend.”
The corners of her lips twitched as she let out a slight hum.
“Hmph. How disgusting.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“At least he has some bit of a conscience left, knowing to send a letter to greet me.”
However, upon seeing the second sentence, her lovely brows knitted together slightly.
“Now, please tell me in the most direct, straightforward, objective…”
Skipping over the verbose section, she looked straight at the main point at the very end.
Seeing that Link was still dwelling on that Popular Science (Part 2), she couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance: “Your Popular Science (Part 1) was practically used as toilet paper, yet you still want to write another one.”
Serie replied directly with a single word:
“Piss off.”
Sensing Serie’s intimidating presence—one no weaker than that of a seasoned warrior—the Stollenwerck flapped its wings, took off decisively, and shot into the sky.
Given the Stollenwerck’s speed, its very initial surge was enough to leave ordinary mages in the dust, but the one it faced was the Great Mage of the Mythical Era—Serie.
Spell to Prohibit Flight
A massive magic circle dropped out of nowhere, binding the Stollenwerck to the ground.
A caged bird, it could now only await its sentence.
“What’s the rush? There’s still something you haven’t carried back.”
During the days Link spent waiting for Serie’s reply, Flamme had already completely mastered Magic to Extend Lifespan—a speed that was truly astounding.
Thus, Link taught her a second spell.
Cleaning Magic
Now, every single day, besides chopping firewood, cooking, and feeding the Stollenwercks, Flamme spent her time using Cleaning Magic to clean the entire Dragon Castle.
This was entirely treating an eight-year-old child as forced labor.
Is this what an eight-year-old child should be doing?!
Yet for Flamme, this was a completely unique experience.
Though the Dragon Castle was enormous to her, she had magic.
Casting speed could make cleaning faster, control could produce better final results, and her mana reserves allowed her to cast Cleaning Magic many more times.
This was no longer simple cleaning; it was a trial—a trial of saying farewell to her past self.
Flamme wanted to bid farewell to the self who could only cower in the ruins, and she wanted to use magic to slaughter every single demon.
Besides, Cleaning Magic wasn’t a simple spell either; in Master Link’s hands, that was a spell capable of stripping demons alive.
I reckon this is the profound meaning Master had in mind when passing down [Cleaning Magic] to me!
With absolute conviction, Flamme began cleaning the next floor.
Sitting at his study desk, Link was pinching his chin, deep in thought.
Whether it was a bug or something else, under the influence of his bootleg popular science book, Flamme’s mana pathway operated differently from ordinary people, yet it could somehow still function.
He couldn’t understand it and was thoroughly shocked—perhaps this was what they called a true genius.
If one bug is a bug, a stack of bugs somehow works!
Whatever, let’s just keep it running for now.
To prevent things from taking a turn for the worse, Link only dared to let Flamme handle basic tasks, such as cleaning the Dragon Castle.
As for the textbook issue, a solution had arrived.
The messenger bird had brought back the scroll from Serie, and inside lay the path to salvation.
“Heh, if you ask me, with my magical talent, teaching a kid like Flamme is child’s play!”
Link unrolled the scroll, his gaze sliding right past the giant “Piss off.”
Unsurprisingly, apart from that “Piss off,” the rest was packed with solid, foundational magic theory.
For a beginner in magic, this was practically a god-tier manual.
Overjoyed, Link stayed up all night transcribing it.
The workload was immense; though he had intended to streamline it a bit, at the thought of his beloved disciple practicing it, he ultimately abandoned the idea.
“My good disciple, I hope you can understand your master’s painstaking efforts.”
Dawn, noon, dusk—time flew by.
Finally, late in the night of the second day, those theoretical works of predecessors were all transcribed onto the same scroll by Link.
Lastly, he wrote on the cover: “Basic Magic Popular Science (Part 2)”
“First Author: Link”
Looking at it over and over, he still felt somewhat unsatisfied.
So, Link picked up his pen again and added Serie’s name right next to his own: “Co-First Author: Serie.”
The instant he finished writing, he narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing that the weight of this Basic Magic Popular Science (Part 2) was skyrocketing at a rate visible to the naked eye.
Inspecting it over and over once more, he still felt a slight dissatisfaction.
Thinking about how he had been roaming this continent for so many years without even a respectable title to his name, Link felt a bit broken inside.
Thus, right between Link’s name and Serie’s name—in that extraordinarily ambiguous middle space—he wrote down the words: Great Mage.
Perfect!
Now who could even tell him and Serie apart?
So then, what should I teach starting tomorrow?
Link fell into deep thought once again.