A Genius Mage Hides His Origins

22 – Toxicity

The proposition that when the sun disappears beyond the horizon, profound darkness descends, like a law of nature, ceased to be true in the Federation at least a decade or so ago.

Around the time when the title of those studying magic changed from sorcerer to mage and then to magician.

It was the realization of the prophecy made by a magician who, when asked by bureaucrats, “What use does this experiment have?” replied, “Someday, our teachers will be able to tax this.”

Magical lights were spread throughout the federation.

Thanks to the stars rising from the ground, covering the surface with a soft tan color, people could now bid farewell to the darkness, a long-time adversary filled with deep affection.

Nowadays, darkness in the federation was nothing more than a remnant of the past.

So when that remnant manifested in the collapsed tunnel shortly after, Damon fell into panic.

“Damn it!”

Bang!

Forgetting the danger of collapse, he vented his anger by slamming the floor with his fist.

Nothing was visible.

The only things visible were the fear and unease, like the darkness, that at any moment, this side too would collapse.

The peril of the collapsed tunnel accident, well-known to Damon, intensified his anxiety.

“Damn. How long do I have to endure in here? No food, no water, and the oxygen might run out soon.”

Isn’t this just telling me to die?

That’s how Damon interpreted it.

Then suddenly, he realized that he was muttering like this, yet there was no response from the person next to him.

Shouting towards the darkness-filled void somewhere.

“Hey, gray hair. Are you dead? Say something!”

Hmm—hmm—

An angry voice echoed helplessly.

Due to the collapsed tunnel, the perfectly sealed space resonated the voice even more. Echoes rang out and resonated again.

However, there was no response.

“…!”

Alone, was he left?

In this darkness?

The surging unease at that moment surpassed the threshold that Damon could endure.

“Hey. Gray hair. Uh, where are you.”

He frantically searched the surrounding floor with trembling hands.

The corridor was deep, but not particularly wide.

If someone had fainted, at least their body would be felt around here.

At least there should be a corpse.

However.

“…Not here. Hey, gray hair!”

At his fingertips, there was nothing but the cold and damp touch of rock, and there was no sign of Eugene’s body anywhere in the vicinity.

Damon was on the verge of despair.

“Gray haaair!!!”

That’s when it happened.

“Gray hair, gray hair, you’re damn noisy. I’m concentrating, so be quiet.”

The voice he had longed for came from the front, not from the sides or behind.

“Are you alive?”

“Thanks to you pushing me aside. I’m currently examining the blocked corridor… It’s deadly without light.”

It’s a Type 2 light. Tsk, should have somehow learned Type 2 magic. Muttering such complaints, Eugene suddenly seemed to have a good idea and started to mumble something with satisfaction.

Is he untying the mysterious pouch that had been hanging around his waist?

Damon, who had been speculating just by the sound of the car, approached and spoke.

“Damon.”

“Why, why are you calling me?”

“Come here.”

He did as told.

Even standing up was a struggle as the tension left his legs. Still, it was much better to have body heat nearby than facing the cold emptiness alone.

“What are you up to?”

“From now on, don’t talk about what you see, whether it’s the supervisor or anyone else.”

As he said that, Eugene ‘unfolded’ something.

The reason he could recognize the movement was that light was leaking from the unfolded object.

“A shining book…? No way. Is this a spellbook?”

“It’s just that the letters glow, it’s not that bright. But even this will be over when the magic runs out, so we have to hurry.”

“What are we hurrying for?”

“What’s there to hurry for?”

In the midst of a faint blue light spreading like mist, Eugene smirked as if it were obvious.

“Escape is obvious, isn’t it?”

*

Accidents in the mine range from simple rockfalls to major incidents where the ground itself collapses.

In this case, it seemed to be infinitely close to the former.

“Just that part had a weak foundation, and it seems to have collapsed due to insufficient support. There’s little risk of additional collapse.”

“I agree.”

Eugene and Damon’s opinions aligned.

Considering the collapse, the support structure was surprisingly stable.

Since there was minimal concern about a secondary collapse during the process of reopening the tunnel, it would proceed quickly.

It might sound ironic to say this after an accident, but if you had to express it, it was as if luck was on their side.

Damon, now relieved, slumped down on the floor.

“Phew…”

“What are you doing?”

“What can I do? Now that we know it’s safe, we just have to patiently wait for rescue or something.”

No food or water.

If unlucky, they might have to stay inside for days.

Damon was prepared to preserve his strength until rescue.

“If you die of dehydration before being rescued, that would be the epitome of irony, you know?”

“…”

Damon stared back at him, meaning ‘So, you better sit down and rest instead of resisting.’

But Eugene shook his head.

“If you’re going to rest, go back there and do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll be doing some pickaxe work.”

[End of Excerpt]

Soon, Eugene returned with a pickaxe and began to dig in earnest after placing the spellbook in one corner.

Clang, clang, clang…

The rocks started to break, slowly but surely.

“Just a bit more.”

“Hey, Gray Hair, you’ll end up dead at this rate!”

“People can go three days without food and still survive.”

“…Crazy bastard.”

“Take it as a compliment.”

Clang, clang, clang…

Damon watched him with his mouth agape.

He wasn’t the epitome of perfection by any means. With each swing, he nearly missed the pickaxe, and his posture was a mess.

His hands were likely as battered and bruised as his own.

Damon thought. Their physical condition wasn’t much different.

But while he sat down to rest, the other kept swinging the pickaxe relentlessly.

“For heaven’s sake!”

Damon, frustrated, pounded the ground.

“Move!”

“What’s up?”

“Division of labor. You take the left. I’ll handle the right.”

“We could take turns, you know.”

“Namisa.”

The sound of pickaxe strikes doubled.

Damon, ignoring the distant exhaustion and pain rising from his grip, opened his mouth.

“Gray hair. What in the world, ugh. Did you, like, create yourself that way?”

Eugene replied.

“Sitting around, I’ve had enough!”

Clang―Clang―Clang―

The two pickaxe strikes starting from inside didn’t end in a meaningless conclusion.

It was a day and a half after the isolation that the two were rescued. If they hadn’t dug through the blocked passage from both directions, their lives would have been in danger due to lack of oxygen and water.

Tunnel 7 resumed operations after thorough safety measures.

Time continued to pass.

# August 25. Clear.

“Are you really leaving?”

Next to the shack near the tunnel. The supervisor’s first words upon seeing me, having packed my belongings, were a plea.

“Can’t you stay a bit longer? I’ll give you a good bonus. Our tunnel veterans won’t give you any trouble.”

“That’s tempting. But I’m sorry.”

I shook my head.

“I have somewhere to go.”

The time had come.

A month had passed since I spent time in Leslie’s mine. And, before I knew it, enough money had accumulated to rent a room for a couple of months in Prousen.

Note: All characters are fictional and above 21 years of age.

Since it’s become a familiar routine, it might be good to stay longer, as the supervisor suggests, and secure a decent sum of money. However, in return, the day of arrival in Prussia will be delayed.

Can’t afford to lose the main actor.

“Well then. I’ve been in your debt for a while.”

“Wait!”

As I turned to leave, a familiar voice reached my ears.

It was a voice I had grown accustomed to over the past month, constantly hearing it by my side.

“Damon.”

“You decide on the gang and even when to leave as you please. What if you disappear without a word?”

“hahahahaha.”

“Laughing, huh.”

Whether he emerged from the gang in a hurry or not, Damon was a mess with disheveled hair and a rumpled outfit.

Damon looked at me with a sly smile.

“A loner like you will do well no matter what you do. Farewell… Eugene.”

I widened my eyes.

The next moment, after a soft chuckle, he shook my hand.

“Take care.”

And so, I left the mining city, Leslie.

*

To go from the Leslie station, still under Oslovian jurisdiction, to Prussia, I had to pass through several stations.

Fortunately, I had enough fare for the journey.

When I first got off at the Leslie station, my funds had increased compared to the first time, but the appearance had become even dirtier, which was annoying, but this would be a problem to be solved gradually.

Among the three nations of the Federation, there is a city in Prussia with the same name as the country.

Prussia. The magic headquarters.

It was my final destination.

As the last train passed a few mountain streams, the scenery outside the car window began to reflect a sophisticated civilization instead of nature.

A cityscape so vast and elegant that it was pale in comparison to the port city of Oris.

In one corner, an area was formed where majestic buildings with a long history and solid facilities were gathered together.

Although I was seeing it for the first time, I immediately recalled its name.

“The Prussian Federation Magical University.”

The forefront of magical studies.

I clenched my fists with strength.

Finally, I had set foot on the background of the dream I had been nurturing under my legs.