Your Majesty, Dinner Is Ready. Chapter 64 - The Weakest Mage Class

Chapter 64: The Weakest Mage Class

 

Future aspirations. Personal history. The build he sought to pursue.

Almost everything there was to know about Bartimir was already in my head.

After all, I’d personally raised him with painstaking care and become thoroughly immersed in his story.

“A plan for my future? Even if you’re the expedition captain, why should I follow it? I know far more about dark magic than you do.”

“You’re absolutely right. To establish mutual trust, I’ll first prove my capabilities. Ask me anything. I can answer it all. Even secrets that only you know.”

“Really?”

The kind-looking demon dark mage thought hard for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Then… what color are my underwear?”

“Black.”

What an opening question.

Right from the start, it was a remarkably sophisticated exchange of the highest caliber.

“To be fair, mine just so happens to be the same color.”

‘Bzzz.’

The Exalted One suddenly chimed in, insisting that gold would suit me better to match my hair and eyes, and began offering unsolicited advice about my choice of underwear.

“My hobby?”

“Sneaking into the sealed curse repository of the Dark Magic Mage Tower and imagining what would happen if you accepted those curses into your own body. You go at night because the senior mages scold you if you do it during the day.”

‘Squirm.’

This time Lriria. joined in, sending amused laughter through the snake tattoo.

Apparently, he found Bartimir’s hobby of observing curses in the darkness immensely appealing.

“You know that much in detail…”

The corners of the demon’s lips rose.

After another brief moment of thought, he asked again, “Then… what disease do I most want to contract?”

“[Flow Coagulation Syndrome]. A disease in which the flow of energy inside the body stagnates and congeals. It’s particularly fatal to mages, for whom the free circulation of mana is essential.”

Looking directly into the demon’s distinctive heterochromatic eyes, I continued,

“But [Flow Coagulation Syndrome] becomes an incredibly powerful weapon when combined with a certain curse.”

“You even know the ideal combination?”

I could practically feel Bartimir’s trust in me shooting straight upward.

Time to drive the final nail in.

“If you were afflicted with that disease, you’d undoubtedly suffer tremendously… And yet you still desire it. To you, pain is merely a means of reaching greater heights. You don’t fear it simply because it hurts. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

“…You can even read my mind? That’s honestly amazing.”

Bartimir openly displayed his surprise, clicking his tongue in admiration.

“So your Evil God really does know everything.”

“Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. To be precise, whenever someone says ‘They know everything,’ they should really add ‘except what They don’t know’ in front of it. You could call it a sort of promotional slogan that cleverly glosses over a rather disappointing Authority.”

[>:(]

“But surely this proves that there’s an astonishing amount of knowledge inside my head?”

“I can’t deny that. If you’re helping me… I really might be able to achieve my dream.”

“Of course.”

The Council of Sages of the Bibliophile Mage Tower.

A gathering of irreverent researchers who viewed labyrinths not as places to explore, but merely as miraculous springs overflowing endlessly with materials that could be harvested and sold.

The reason why it was so difficult to find Pletica’s mages inside lower-ranked labyrinths… was entirely because of that Council.

The prevailing opinion they promoted was that exploring wasn’t worth the effort unless the labyrinth was at least C-rank.

As a result, mages like Bartimir who held positive views toward exploration were treated as oddballs.

“We really need more practical mages like you, Sir Bartimir. Only then can we break this atmosphere where everyone only cares about immediate gains and losses.”

“There probably isn’t anyone among the apprentices or regular-ranked mages who actually enters labyrinths as I do. At best, maybe a handful of senior mages.”

To call the Bibliophile Mage Tower barren ground for exploration would hardly be an exaggeration.

Which was precisely why I fully intended to help Bartimir achieve his dream.

How could the district’s governing force in a labyrinth city like Pletica have so little interest in exploration?

“Sir Bartimir… You only need to trust me.”

I could say it with complete confidence.

“I’ll wholeheartedly help you continue rising through the ranks of the Mage Tower.”

It wasn’t impossible.

I’d already accomplished it once before.

“I don’t know if it’ll really go as smoothly as you think… But I do like your confidence.”

As I looked into the eyes of the good-hearted demon, filled with quiet anticipation…

The rooftop door suddenly burst open.

“Excuse meee.”

Charlotte, the maid, approached carrying a tray in one hand.

Her face was slightly flushed, suggesting she’d had another drink.

“Please enjoy these while you talk. For Sir Karr, I’ve mixed fatigue recovery potion into spirit water, and for Sir Bartimir, here’s coffee made by an alchemist and blended with negative emotions!”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks.”

After Charlotte cheerfully waved and headed back inside…

I quietly sipped the refreshing drink through a straw for a while before speaking again.

“There are three requirements to become the Sage of a magical school. First, your Soul Rank must be at least Level 7. Second, your research achievements must receive approval from over half the attendees at the regular Bibliophile Symposium.”

Those two requirements could eventually be met simply with enough time.

The third one… was another matter entirely.

“In addition, you must engage in a magical duel against a Sage from another school and receive a favorable evaluation.”

Still lying down with one elbow supporting his chin while carefully sipping his coffee, Bartimir frowned.

“No matter how much they’re just bespectacled researchers hiding in laboratories… Most Sages have over twenty years of experience as mages. Winning a magical duel against them won’t be easy.”

“I completely agree.”

Every Sage who led a magical school was a monster armed to the teeth with powerful Mysteries and artifacts.

Compared to the current Bartimir…

The difference was about the same as comparing the King of the Dead to a Fire-Eyed Ant.

Some of them were even among the Twelve Heroes.

Whatever their personalities might be…

Their abilities were unquestionably genuine.

“But did you know something?”

I stated something that would make any ordinary mage fly into a rage.

Yet it remained an undeniable fact.

“Most of the current Sages have terrible Mystery builds.”

They’re badly built characters.

At my outrageous statement, Bartimir’s eyes widened while he slowly sipped his coffee.

His expression resembled that of a new employee forced to endure one of Department Chief Choi’s horrifyingly outdated and deeply embarrassing jokes.

[The Wise One applauds your refreshingly frank remark!]

Slowly sitting upright and crossing his legs, the demon smiled.

“Interesting. You’ve got evidence to back that up, don’t you?”

“I never speak nonsense or make idle remarks.”

“Which somehow makes you even less convincing…”

Bartimir tapped his fingers against his knee.

“The Sages have devoted their entire lives to magical research ever since joining the Mage Tower… And you’re saying their builds are a complete mess?”

“Hmm. Would it be easier to accept if I toned it down and said they merely contain ‘very subtle, very minor flaws’?”

“A little?”

“In truth, it’s not a difficult issue to understand at all.”

Theory and practice were different things.

Applying knowledge learned inside a study to real-life situations required countless rounds of trial and error.

That was precisely how the weakness shared by most Sages…

Those tiny imperfections in their Mystery compositions… Had come into existence.

“To begin with… Wouldn’t it be strange if magical combinations developed solely inside laboratories without ever being tested in real expeditions, somehow turned out perfectly?”

“That… makes sense.”

“Mystery builds that have never undergone practical field testing are inevitably going to contain flaws.”

“I understand. That much makes sense.”

Draining the rest of his coffee in one gulp, Bartimir looked straight at me.

“So you’re saying that if I exploit those weaknesses in their Mystery builds… Then, fulfilling the remaining requirement to become a Sage won’t actually be that difficult?”

“You’ve understood perfectly.”

“It still sounds completely ridiculous… But somehow, when ‘you’ say it, it keeps sounding believable.”

“That’s because I’m simply an irresistibly charming half-elf.”

The demon snorted before lying back down, carelessly crossing his legs in a posture that couldn’t possibly be good for his back.

I quietly drank more of Charlotte’s strangely addictive beverage before speaking again.

“For now, the area you need to focus on is naturally your own growth. You have to meet the requirement of reaching at least Soul Rank Level 7.”

“So I’ve been exploring labyrinths as much as I can. Accepting your invitation to join the expedition team was for the same reason.”

“You’re already doing well. But I can optimize the direction of your growth even further. Would you entrust it to me? If you don’t like what you hear afterward, you’re free to reject it.”

The demon dark mage stared blankly up at the sky, idly wiggling his feet before answering,

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you. For trusting me.”

I rubbed my hands together with an intentionally sinister smile.

“What are you doing?”

“You agreed far too easily. I was simply acting like a proper cultist to demonstrate why you shouldn’t trust people quite so readily.”

“Don’t. You actually look terrifying when you do that…”

“Yes.”

I politely nodded.

Then I began a build consultation tailored exclusively for Bartimir.

“Sir Bartimir. You were forcibly taught Dark Magic Mysteries by the Dark Mage Guild, weren’t you?”

The law-abiding demon gave a bitter smile.

“…Nothing’s a secret from you. That’s right. At the time, did the guild member responsible for instructing you ever talk about the prospects of Dark Mages?”

Resting both hands behind his head as a pillow, Bartimir answered without hesitation.

“He did. Every time he saw me, he’d snicker. He said the moment the Dark Mage class becomes engraved onto your soul… You’re already a ruined explorer with no future.”

Dark Mage.

Without question…

The weakest mage class.

“Dark Magic consists of Mysteries that manipulate the power of the Demon Realm. And demons are originally inhabitants of the Demon Realm. So the synergy itself is excellent because we suffer fewer side effects.”

“Exactly.”

“But after the Great Holy War, the Demon Realm completely collapsed. So in reality, that incredible synergy no longer manifests.”

Just how weak was it?

Roughly weak enough to barely defeat a Cultist after a desperate, evenly matched struggle.

Perhaps around the same level as a Thief… The second weakest class.

That was precisely why I’d decided to raise Dark Mage Bartimir.

‘He’s the only genuinely decent mage.’

Like the Cultist, he belonged to a tragic class that had remained weak in the lore for so long that it had never received meaningful buffs.

To overcome such bleak reality…

It required bold measures capable of shattering preconceptions and conventional wisdom.

I’d spent several days carefully crafting a Demon Dark Mage build with the mindset of an artist creating a masterpiece.

“Collector of Calamities.”

The moment I quietly spoke those words, Bartimir blinked blankly.

“I’ve decided on a name for your growth path, Sir Bartimir.”

If Marlin had heard it…

She probably would’ve scolded me, saying that jokes were supposed to be funny.

“……”

But rather than looking dumbfounded…

The demon dark mage’s eyes shone with excitement.

“At present, you’re carrying the disease [Petrifying Body], which slowly turns your body to stone… And [Gnawing Disease], which constantly causes pain as though your muscles are being eaten away.”

Diseases were not Bartimir’s enemies.

They were merely… Somewhat mischievous friends.

“As for curses… You bear [Ugly One!], which slowly erodes your outward attractiveness, “[Treacherous Companion], which strengthens and preserves every disease affecting you, and [Mockery of the Atheist], which prevents communication with divine beings and forever bars you from becoming a believer.”

Curses were no different.

Bartimir had formed close friendships with things that ordinary explorers feared and despised.

“Excellent. Continue exactly as you have been.”

Diseases. Curses. And every other form of physical or mental calamity.

A Dark Mage who deliberately collected them all.

That… was the foundation of the Collector of Calamities Build.