Chapter 1

Chapter 1
## Chapter 1
Dereck’s first teacher was a tattered old man who begged in the slums.

Even in Ebelstein, a world-renowned metropolis on the continent, there existed marginal neighborhoods where the indigent gathered. At the entrance of a dark alley frequented by thugs and prostitutes, the old man would proclaim loudly to the void that he was a great mage, as if he had lost his mind.

“In my prime, I was a great mage who soared through the skies in the Great Northern War!”

“The famous Grand Duke Beltus even sought me out personally to handle the monsters on the border! Haha!”

The few strands of hair remaining on his wrinkled head were filthy, and his worn leather shirt and pants were stained with dirt and food scraps. To anyone who saw him, he was nothing more than a demented beggar, so, naturally, no one believed him.

“Ah, these fools… Tsk!”

Hurt by their incredulity, the old man would sometimes hurl fire into the air or summon a gust of wind.

In an era where magic was rare, even the most basic magic was an invaluable skill in these slums. Passersby would clap or exclaim in wonder at his magic, but those with a bit of knowledge would comment critically:

“I understand you can use magic, but your level is too small to consider yourself a great mage, don’t you think?”

“Hey, brat! Who do you think you are to criticize me?”

“Well, it’s just that you seem capable only of first-level basic magic, which noble children usually master before their initiation ceremony.”

The old man swallowed hard at the criticism from a man in the crowd. He did not expect anyone in that grimy slum to recognize the level of magic.

***

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—

“Sure, it’s impressive to use magic in this wasteland, but claiming to be a great mage of the past seems a bit exaggerated. Let’s be honest.”

The man, clean-cut and well-dressed, made it clear that between him and the beggar, there was no need to debate who was more credible. The gathered crowd laughed and mocked the old man, throwing trash and dirt at him.

“See? I knew it! That annoying old man always brags about himself when he passes by!”

“He thinks he’s special, but he’s nothing more than a useless bum justifying why he doesn’t belong in this dark alley.”

Even his ability to use basic magic was admirable to the poor of the slums. However, the old man’s arrogance and his constant belittling of others had made him a target of ridicule. Because of this, they spat at him and laughed at him every time he lay down in the street.

“Fools. They don’t recognize true talent…”

The old man muttered to himself, trying to justify his situation as the only way to defend his pride.

One day, while he was sitting on the ground, angrily biting into a piece of oat bread he found in the trash, a small, dirty-looking boy approached him.

“Please, teach me magic.”

The boy, who didn’t appear to be more than ten years old, with white hair covered in grime and a haggard face, was a typical slum orphan.

It was evident that the boy was not in his right mind to ask a beggar known for his fantastic tales to teach him magic. Despite his serious gaze, it was a common expression in this slum where survival was a daily struggle.

“My name is Dereck.”

“…Very well.”

The old man looked at the boy and then smiled, showing his teeth.

The old man was a braggart. He was not a successful great mage in his youth, but a mediocre man who wandered through the magical world with insignificant talent and grew old without having achieved anything.

He had neither the ability nor the intention to teach magic properly. Sometimes, those who have achieved nothing in life need someone to take their boasts seriously and admire them. The arrival of a naive lad was a great stimulus for his otherwise empty life.

“Haha, Dereck, feel honored to have me as your professor. Even if right now I am sitting here on the ground, in the prime of my life…”

The old man fed his ego with long speeches to the boy. Passersby clicked their tongues or looked at Dereck with compassion, but he listened in silence to the old man’s stories.

***

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—

From time to time, the old man grudgingly shared basic magical knowledge, though it was elementary and exaggerated to make it seem profound. Dereck, whether aware or not of the old man’s nature, absorbed that knowledge in silence.

Time passed and the seasons changed like a flowing river. The colorful autumn leaves disappeared, the weather turned cold, and soon spring arrived again.

The boy and the old man sometimes slept by the river, stole bread from bakeries, and endured the cold in makeshift shelters. Despite the difficulty of understanding the true nature of people, the old man gradually realized Dereck’s exceptional talent.

“Are you an illegitimate son of a noble family?”

“Not at all.”

In magic, lineage was paramount. Even the old man could see Dereck’s extraordinary talent. He grasped concepts quickly and applied them with skill.

In terms of theoretical knowledge, Dereck soon matched the level of first-level mages, a rare feat even for the children of nobles with the best resources.

“I wish it were so.”

Dereck replied with indifference, while the steam from freshly baked bread floated in front of him. It was a lucky day, as he had managed to steal a pile of warm bread. The old man greedily tucked some into his leather bag and began to eat, pushing the rest toward Dereck.

“I don’t know why you are so eager to learn magic, but you understand that, as a commoner, there is a limit to how far you can go.”

“Yes.”

“The noble children who live beyond the northern walls of Ebelstein usually reach the third level before adulthood. For someone of humble origin, it takes decades of training to reach that level. Does that motivate you?”

The old man couldn’t help but offer some life advice to the boy, who seemed to have lost his sanity prematurely. Despite needing someone to follow him, Dereck’s old-man-like attitude made it difficult to feel sympathy for him.

However, time spent together generates affection. The old man felt compelled to share his somber perspective.

“Even if you feel exceptional now, sooner or later you will run into an insuperable wall.”

This was not just a story. The old man remembered his youth, when his magical skills—the fruit of great effort—were matched effortlessly by the son of a duke in just one week. The abyss between noble and commoner was immense.

“Live selfishly and tenaciously, like me.”

“I don’t have great ambitions. I just need a way to survive.”

***

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—

“Ah, you talk as if you knew everything at your age… this butter bread is delicious. It seems we were lucky.”

“My bread only smells like grain.”

“Haha…”

Dereck chewed his tasteless bread while watching the old man laugh, showing his yellowed teeth.

“I’ve already eaten the good butter bread. A disciple should not eat better than his master.”

“…”

“I already told you, life is about being tenacious. If you’re upset, you should have kept the good bread. Now I have it all in my pocket.”

The old man’s behavior, hoarding the best bread, was typical of a beggar. Dereck, unable to muster even a bitter laugh, silently ate his dry bread, vowing that next time he would secure the best butter bread first.

The next day, at dusk, Dereck returned from practicing pickpocketing and found his master lying by the river, covered in blood.

The old man tried to rob the guards at the northern wall and was beaten nearly to death. Apparently, he tried to steal a second-level magic book. No one understood why a man without ambitions would do something like that.

Touching the guards of Ebelstein was suicide, especially for a despised beggar. No one would defend him.

“Master.”

“Gah… ha…”

With broken ribs, the old man could barely breathe, trembling in a pool of blood, trying to speak. But the words wouldn’t come out, only the struggle to breathe. His life ended with a trembling gesture, true to his status as a beggar.

Dereck silently observed the cold body and then used a broken shovel to dig a grave by the riverbank, filled with trash. After depositing the old man’s body in a modest grave, Dereck nodded several times and returned to his usual shelter.

There he found the old man’s smelly leather sheets, a small wooden drawer, and some scraps of cloth used as pillows. Upon searching it, he found nothing of value except a leather bag with bread scraps.

Dereck took the bag, wrapped a leather sheet around his shoulders for warmth, and headed toward the main street of Ebelstein.

The old man had said that, as a commoner, Dereck’s magic training would have limited success. He wasn’t wrong; most would agree in this world where magic was a privilege.

However, the old man never realized that Dereck was not originally from this world.

***

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—

**[You have mastered the fundamentals of magic. You can now access first-level magic.]**

**[Choose your primary magic school. This choice is irreversible.]**

Dereck only needed a teacher to learn the basics. For advanced magic, a great master was needed, but for the basics, anyone could be a mentor. In these slums, even such teachers were scarce. The old man, with his exaggerated stories, was perfect for Dereck’s needs.

That was all.

Despite his miserable life, the old man had tried to teach Dereck something. He wanted to pass on his desperate tenacity to survive from the very bottom.

As Dereck walked toward the main street of Ebelstein, he wore his usual old-man expression and took a bite of a piece of bread the old man carried in his bag. It contained no butter.