Chapter 939
…What an idiot.
That was Ian’s first impression when he finally faced Berrick properly.
As the passing mages stopped and stared in surprise, Ian motioned toward the sofa, silently telling him to sit down. Berrick slowly lowered his head and followed Ian’s movement, then plopped down right across from him, muttering over and over about a single gold coin.
“You’re telling me you let them take all the money I earned while I was stabbed in the side? That’s just too much.”
“Didn’t you come looking for that button knowing it belonged to the Ministry of Magic?”
“Yeah, I knew. That’s why I’m sitting here now. You’re the idiot, you know that?”
Snap. Ian clenched his teeth, fighting back the irritation rising inside him. There’s nothing more pathetic than arguing with a fool.
“…The Ministry’s button isn’t just made of high-quality material; it’s extremely rare. It’s worth more than a single gold coin. I basically added money on top of what you earned.”
“Why should I care? It’s not like I earned it.”
Ting! Berrick flicked the button back to Ian. If he didn’t earn it himself, he wasn’t going to pocket it.
Ian looked at the button for a moment, surprised, then rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a gold coin—still stained with Berrick’s blood.
“Okay then, that’s settled—”
But Ian suddenly pulled his hand back as if to hand it over, leaving Berrick baffled as he glanced at the empty palm.
“Are you messing with me?”
“I have something to ask.”
“Ah, no way. I was there for the first time that day, pushed into it—I don’t know anything.”
Berrick was already backing away, worried the palace might be cracking down on gambling dens. His lies were so transparent it was obvious.
Ian crossed his legs and asked,
“Do you have family?”
“Family? Yeah.”
“When did you start going to the arena?”
“Since when do you remember when you last ate?”
“…Your attitude’s pretty rude.”
Hmph! Whatever. Berrick scratched his ear and looked away, pretending not to care. He probably had no idea how respected and important mages were. Not knowing the basics, he obviously didn’t realize Ian was from a noble family.
“What about your wound?”
“Oh, right.”
Berrick, who had been slouching, suddenly snapped to attention and stood up. Then, bowing politely, he expressed his gratitude.
“Thanks for saving me. If not for you, I’d be dead and my whole family starving like sausages in the afterlife. But don’t get me wrong—I’m not asking for treatment money. Not a single coin.”
Ian was dumbfounded. Berrick sat back down with a cocky look, as if he’d said all he needed to.
Ian tilted his head, resting his chin on his fingertips. Could this reckless guy really be a magic swordsman? Even if he was, was it right to recommend him to the palace guard? For the dignity of the palace…
“It’s been so long since I last saw my father’s face.”
“Maybe it’s because of the three-shift schedule.”
“Yeah. The palace guard is so understaffed. After Sister Sara died of tuberculosis two years ago, there’s been a gap. I’m planning to apply as soon as the next recruitment opens. It’s the only way to help my father’s work.”
“The Empire’s joint recruitment period is coming up.”
“Luckily, it’s after my birthday. I’m eligible.”
The worried conversation with Barsabe flashed through Ian’s mind.
In the past decade-long war against monsters, four soldiers had already died in battle, and one from disease. The palace guard desperately needed talented people.
Not only magic swordsmen could join the palace guard, but to surpass the absolute standards, only a magic swordsman could do it.
‘But the way his wound is healing is strange. I should check it out.’
Rustle.
“Oh? There were snacks here? Hahaha!”
Berrick found some snacks under the table and started munching noisily.
Ian felt like he was dealing with an untrainable beast. Could a person really be this uncouth? Still, he had endured it all this time to repay even a little of the kindness he owed to Count Zach’s household.
“Do you fight in the arena just for the money?”
“Money, well, that’s part of it.”
It was a place where you could earn a month’s living in a day if you were good. For Berrick, who had several dependents, there was no other choice.
So far, it was normal. Whether fighters or gamblers, most entered the arena for money.
But then—
“It’s fun.”
“What?”
“It’s fun. When I fight, my blood boils, and—how do I explain this? Anyway, it’s fun. Sure, it sucks getting beaten up badly, but the thrill of coming back and breaking them twice as hard is amazing.”
Pride. The basic trait of a warrior and an essential virtue of a magic swordsman.
Ian brushed his hair back and gathered his thoughts. He seemed to be wondering how to explain what a magic swordsman really was, and how much the palace needed someone like him.
“…The palace is recruiting soldiers.”
“Huh?”
Berrick’s reaction showed he couldn’t care less. He was getting bored and openly glanced at Ian’s pocket, clearly wanting to grab the gold coin and leave.
“I want you to apply.”
“No way.”
A blunt refusal. Ian, expecting it, pressed on.
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t pay. Soldier’s wages are peanuts.”
“I’m not talking about the Imperial Defense Department, but the palace guard. Ever heard of it?”
“Nope.”
What’s that? A cook?
Ian leaned forward slightly and lightly touched Berrick’s forehead with his finger. The gesture was so natural that Berrick blinked without realizing it.
“There’s magic flowing through your body. You’re not a mage, but you’re not an ordinary person either. Have you ever felt like you weren’t growing?”
Berrick hesitated at the question that pierced right through his worries.
He’d been fighting in alleyways since he was a kid. After years of scrappy street brawls, he’d entered the professional fighting scene and realized just how lacking his skills were. The problem was, no matter what he did, his abilities barely improved.
“Y-yeah.”
“That’s because, without a mage to open your energy, your power can’t fully manifest. When I healed your wound yesterday, I tried to open the path a little—it absorbed really well.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“It means you can gain stronger power. Power no one else can touch.”
Berrick’s heart pounded. The strongest in the world, untouchable by anyone!
But he quickly pulled himself together and leaned his head back slightly. Ian’s finger moved away from his forehead.
“No. If it’s some magic trick, I’m out. I want to get stronger on my own.”
“It’s your power. Magic just awakens the potential within you.”
“My power?”
“How far you grow depends on you.”
Excitement and hope sparkled in Berrick’s eyes.
Without realizing it, he leaned forward again and pressed his forehead against Ian’s finger. The sight made Ian smile.
“So, what do I have to do?”
“I’ll infuse you with magic power, and you train.”
“Training? Like I do every day—”
“No more arena fights.”
“Huh?”
“I said, the palace guard. You’ll serve close to His Majesty the Emperor. You have to cut ties with that place. It’s better for you and your family.”
A brief silence fell between them. Berrick cautiously asked,
“How much do they pay?”
“It depends on rank, experience, and exam scores, but it’s not much different from what mages earn. I can give you the details if you want. But probably…”
Ian stretched out the fingers of the hand that had been on Berrick’s forehead and wiggled all five.
“Five gold coins a year? That’s stingy! I can make that in a few fights—”
“Per month.”
Berrick’s face froze as if broken.
“That’s the probation period monthly salary. Of course, benefits for you and your family are separate. It’s a bit early to say, but you probably won’t have much to spend it on. The palace covers everything.”
“…!”
“When you become a full-time member, as I said, I’ll check the details—”
“I’m in! I’ll do it! Please let me!”
Berrick slapped his head into Ian’s palm. No need to hear more. His sister had been against him fighting in the arena anyway. And surely, the palace would have stronger fighters than the back-alley gambling dens. Plus, he’d probably get to eat as much as he wanted…
“Wait. Is there a dining hall too?”
Ian smiled and nodded. Berrick’s eyes went wide and his pupils dilated. A dining hall! No one would complain no matter how much he ate? Probably?
“The palace will announce recruitment soon. Only the top candidates will be selected for the palace guard. Until then, practice opening your magic power and focus on training.”
Ian would have to ask Barsabe or Count Zach’s household to help with the training. He was busy with Ministry of Magic affairs and wasn’t an expert in that area.
Berrick wiggled his hips eagerly, as if begging for something to be done right away.
“Alright, alright! I get it, just hurry up and do it.”
“There are conditions. First: show proper respect.”
“Yessir!”
“Second: control your power.”
“Man, you sure love to talk.”
“Third: pledge loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about that one. It doesn’t exactly come from the heart yet.”
Good, at least he’s honest. Ian smirked and began to release his magic.
Zzzziiinnng! Zziiing!
In an instant, Ian’s eyes turned a brilliant gold. Beric’s lips parted slightly in surprise. It was an unfamiliar sensation—like his blood was boiling, every organ twisting and writhing inside him.
Beric staggered, gripping the table for support. Ian quickly withdrew his magic.
‘Did I overdo it?’
But the worry was short-lived. Beric chuckled and lifted his head. His eyes sparkled wildly through his fiery red hair.
“Whoa, damn. What is this? I feel like I’m gonna fly.”
“Your senses have heightened. Just wait a moment—”
Before Ian could finish, Beric slammed his fist down on the table, splitting it in half.
KRAAASH!
CRACKLE!
“…!”
“Holy crap! Look at this! It’s breaking! It’s breaking! Hahaha!”
BANG! BOOM!
THUD! SMASH!
Beric, amazed, ran around wildly, unable to control his newfound strength, smashing everything in sight.
Then, suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He turned around and saw Ian grinning at him.
“No, I told you, we’ll deal with this later. The administration just doesn’t get it!”
“Why don’t you take that up with them?”
“Damn it, honestly—”
Arena was rushing down the corridor, exchanging reports with the mages, when a sudden vibration made her pause, puzzled.
“Did you hear that?”
“Huh?”
KRAAASH!
“Yeah, I heard it.”
“What’s all the noise? Did Arco mess up again?”
Frowning, Arena hurried toward the lobby. A few mages were coming from that direction, all looking downcast, as if they’d seen something they wished they hadn’t.
“Hey, what’s going on in the lobby?”
“No idea.”
“What? You just came from there!”
“Minister, you should see for yourself. Ian’s grown rougher than expected. If he keeps this up, it’s going to be a problem.”
“What? Ian?”
Curious and concerned, Arena rushed into the lobby. There, she saw tables and chairs smashed to pieces, and a strange man with fiery red hair lying face down, clearly having taken a beating. Standing nearby, Ian calmly wiped his hands with a handkerchief.
“I-Ian?”
“Oh, Minister. Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up right away.”
“No, it’s not the cleaning I’m worried about—”
What the hell is going on?
At that moment, the red-haired man lifted his head slightly and looked at Arena and the mages. Despite clearly being scolded, his expression didn’t show a hint of remorse.
“Hello there.”
Beric gave a crooked smile and greeted them.