Chapter 2: Blade and Needle
In a forest on the outskirts of a village, a single girl was crouching down.
She looked to be about six or seven years old. Her hair was tied to the side, and she wore a thin one-piece dress that looked easy to move in. Despite her active appearance, the girl remained as still as a bronze statue. She wasn’t sunbathing, nor was she in pain. She was simply staring intently at the ground.
At the end of her gaze lay the carcass of a mantis.
Swarming ants were gnawing away at the remains, forming a line to carry the pieces back to their nest. The girl had been observing this common occurrence of nature with emotionless eyes for nearly an hour.
Suddenly, with a thunk, a stone hit the girl’s head.
Without showing any sign of pain, the girl stood up. She looked in the direction the stone had come from. There stood five boys who lived in the same village as her. All of them were older. They watched her from a distance, each wearing a similarly mean-spirited smirk.
“Hey, Übel. Are you killing bugs again?”
The girl called Übel neither affirmed nor denied it; she simply lowered her gaze to the ground. There, she found a different stone from the one that had been thrown—a hand-sized, rugged rock.
Übel picked up the stone and headed toward the boys.
“What, you gonna try something? Just ’cause you’re a girl doesn’t mean I’ll go ea—”
Before he could finish, Übel struck the boy in the face with the stone.
She gave it her all.
She didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.
From that point on, it was a brawl too gruesome to watch. The boys didn’t hold back, but Übel was even more relentless. She lunged at them like a ferocious weasel, striking heads and faces without a moment’s hesitation.
Gradually, the boys began to feel a sense of terror toward Übel and ran away in a panic.
“Don’t get involved with her. She’s freaking crazy!”
One of the boys spat out those parting words.
Left behind, Übel stood still and dropped the stone she was holding.
The boys were battered, but Übel was in a terrible state herself. Her tied hair had come undone, and she had scrapes all over her body. However, showing no sign of pain, she looked up at the sky with a bored expression. Before she knew it, the sky had turned a vermillion hue.
“I wasn’t killing bugs, though,”
she muttered to herself.
“It’s boring, killing bugs that don’t talk.”
＊
That day, in the Magic City of Äußerst, the Second-Class Mage Selection Exam was being held.
It was a clear day with the dry wind characteristic of the Northern Lands blowing through. An outdoor training ground served as the exam venue. Standing in the center of the stone-built arena was the proctor, a First-Class Mage named Burg.
The exam content was extremely simple: move Burg back using attack magic. If the examinee could move him even a single step, they passed.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Moving Burg, who wore the [Immovable Cloak]—said to repel all forms of attack magic—was a Herculean task. In fact, not a single person had passed yet that day.
As the exam reached its midpoint, another examinee was declared a failure.
“Time’s up. Next.”
While proceeding with the exam in a businesslike manner, Burg grumbled to himself internally.
—Is this year a bust?
Every examinee had the basics down. However, he didn’t feel anything “outstanding” from any of them. While having no flaws as a mage is certainly a good thing, being a jack-of-all-trades prevents one from becoming even a Second-Class Mage.
In the Continental Magic Association, there are First-Class Mages like Sense and Falsch.
Both are mages, yet they possess combat styles specialized for close-quarters battle. Even if not at their high level, Burg wanted to see some kind of individuality.
“Time’s up.”
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Finally, it was the turn of the last examinee.
A girl with her hair tied to the side appeared before Burg with a leisurely gait. In contrast to Burg, she was lightly equipped. She didn’t look nervous at all; if anything, she was stifling a yawn as if tired of waiting.
Quite the composure, Burg thought, half-exasperated and half-impressed.
He recalled seeing the name “Übel” on the roster.
Looking at the mana radiating from Übel, the difference in strength was clear. In terms of mana quantity, Burg was overwhelmingly superior. She likely understood that. Any mage could tell how robust that cloak—intricately woven with defensive formulas—really was.
And yet, this composure.
Had she already given up on passing? Perhaps she had abandoned the exam after seeing how the previous examinees hadn’t stood a chance. It wouldn’t be unreasonable.
Even so, he didn’t intend to change his policy. He would simply carry out his duty.
“You understand the rules, I assume.”
“Yeah. I just have to move you, right?”
“Correct. You have ten minutes. You may use any attack magic. Begin now.”
Another tedious period was about to begin.
Just as Burg began to let his thoughts wander toward the scouting mission scheduled for tomorrow, his heart gave a sudden, violent throb.
—What?
For a split second, the girl in front of him looked like a giant snake.
Not just large, but a lethally venomous snake. It stared at him with inorganic eyes, its tongue flicking out for a moment. That image burned itself into Burg’s brain.
When he looked at Übel again, she was just an ordinary girl. She had materialized a staff in her hand at some point, but instead of taking a stance, she rested it on her shoulder. There was no sign of an impending attack. Her attitude was so relaxed it was anticlimactic.
What on earth was that image just now?
“Burg-san, was it?”
Übel spoke as if starting a casual conversation.
“It is.”
“I wonder if this exam actually means anything?”
“Meaning?”
“I mean, think about it. Do you think there’s ever an opportunity in real combat to land your attack with all your might? Usually, both you and the opponent are moving around, right? There’s no time to aim accurately. Everyone attacks with the feeling that they’ll be lucky if it hits, while already thinking about what to do if they miss. You know how monks are always breaking stacks of bricks with their bare hands? That’s nothing more than a performance.”
Burg was taken aback. This was the first time an examinee had talked so much during the exam.
“Do you have time to chat so leisurely?”
“Is talking against the rules?”
“…No, it is not.”
He composed himself.
“Übel. There is some truth to what you say.”
“Oh, you know my name. That makes me happy.”
“True, there are few opportunities in real combat to land a blow with one’s full power. However, this is an exam. Think of it as a measurement to see how much firepower an examinee can produce.”
“I see, a measurement.”
“Furthermore, ‘attack’ is a broad term. From basic things like General Attack Magic to magic that acts upon the mind… there are ways to move me other than brute force. If you lack confidence in your instantaneous firepower, trying another method is an option. Flexibility to deal with the situation is also required in this exam.”
“Heh, I just heard something good.”
“Then,” Übel laughed playfully.
“If I said ‘I’m holding your family hostage,’ would you let me pass?”
“Unfortunately, that trick won’t work. I am not so soft as to let someone pass over such a threat, and if you want to shake me, you should tell a more credible lie.”
“You don’t get angry. You’re so serious. Are all First-Class Mages like that?”
“I wonder. They are a group of people who lack a sense of cooperation, though.”
Übel still made no move to attack. With a faint smile plastered on her face, she shifted her staff from hand to hand for no apparent reason.
“When you become a First-Class Mage, there’s a privilege, right? The one where you can get any magic you want.”
“That is correct.”
“What kind of magic did you get?”
“I am under no obligation to tell you.”
“How cold.”
“Übel. Is your staff just an ornament?”
At Burg’s question, Übel blinked as if caught off guard.
“I don’t feel a shred of motivation from you right now. I am a busy man. If you continue to spout nonsense like this, I will have to consider making you forfeit.”
“I’ve got plenty of motivation.”
“Then concentrate on the exam. …Though, whether you forfeit or not, the result likely won’t change. I think you are more suited to be a clown than a mage.”
He intended to provoke her—to draw out her fighting spirit. But Übel didn’t look angry, nor did her faint smile falter. If anything, he felt like the corners of her mouth turned up slightly more.
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