Chapter 170

Chapter 170. Timid and Weak

My discussion with Henji concluded precisely as I anticipated.

And what conclusion was that?

‘Foundational texts on Core Division.’

The explanatory guides Henji provided comprised only four texts, a number far smaller than I had envisioned. I had assumed there would be at least a score of them.

Yet, according to Henji—

“I believe you misunderstand. Core Division is not a discipline that lends itself to casual investigation.”

The reasoning was straightforward.

Splitting one’s core is an inherently perilous endeavor, meaning any research into the matter is essentially identical to human experimentation.

‘The concepts themselves aren’t complex, but the danger is astronomical?’

Indeed, that was logical.

A core cannot be treated like pastry; one cannot simply slice it apart on a whim. Failure guarantees instantaneous death; a stroke of fortune merely leaves you three-quarters in the grave.

And what if you succeed?

‘Even in that scenario, a prominent noble house wouldn’t celebrate it.’

Because an exceptionally skilled spellcaster is reduced to an incompetent.

Presto. A family prodigy transformed into a simpleton. That was the reality of the outcome.

Consequentially, inquiries into core division had stagnated for generations without substantial breakthroughs.

Nevertheless, a fair amount of information had accumulated over time, but—

“Even if I provide these to you, you have no intention of reading them, do you?”

“Naturally.”

I required only the absolute core principles. I have no patience for tedious logical deduction.

At any rate, gripping the four essential volumes recommended by Henji, the preeminent scholar of the core field, I exited the Magic Studies Hall.

…That occurred several days ago.

Now, it was a serene post-meridian hour.

“Yaaawn.”

I stretched out within the smoothly gliding carriage, letting loose a massive yawn.

One minor advantage of reverting to a younger, shorter physique was this—regardless of where or how I reclined, my skull never collided with the frame. Whether that truly counted as a benefit remained up for debate, but regardless.

As I idly contemplated the roof of the opulent vehicle, the muffled rhythm of galloping hooves penetrated the carriage walls.

Absorbing that steady cadence, an abrupt realization struck me.

‘Core Division… is actually quite simple.’

Merely a handful of days had slipped by since I obtained the texts, yet I had already mastered the primary concepts. Across all four volumes, no less. That reality alone demonstrated the simplicity of the underlying principles.

I could have attempted the division immediately, save for a singular dilemma.

“Ultimately, the issue lies in selecting the approach.”

Four volumes existed, and they outlined four distinct strategies.

My current indecision centered on which of these paths to pursue. Evaluated individually, they resembled the following:

First.

‘Literal bisection.’

A strategy centered on cleanly cleaving the core situated within the cardiac region directly down the middle.

Second.

‘Tuber propagation.’

Much like slicing away the bud of a potato to plant it and cultivate a fresh stalk, one severs a fragment of the core to nurture it into a new entity.

The third option was…

‘Establishing Two Residences.’

Technically, this was merely a spin-off of the tuber propagation technique. The defining distinction was that rather than cultivating the severed fragment within the chest, one implants it beneath the navel.

‘And the fourth path is Establishing Two Residences 2.’

Why the designation “2”?

Because it also entails relocating the core, but to a different destination entirely. This time, the destination is not the lower abdomen, but rather within the cranium.

Regardless, given these four methodologies, Establishing Two Residences and its sequel were not even worthy of deliberation. The procedures were agonizingly elaborate, and my existing circle was already anchored in my chest.

‘Consequently, it boils down to either direct bisection or tuber propagation.’

The two paths possessed diametrically opposed advantages and disadvantages. Opting for one meant entirely forfeiting the merits of the other.

It was far from a straightforward choice—and it was precisely at that moment that a voice echoed from beyond the paneling.

“Aster-nim, do I have permission to enter?”

The voice belonged to Ransi.

Was she seriously attempting to board a moving vehicle?

The thought crossed my mind briefly before I realized the truth. While absorbed in my reflections, the carriage had ground to a halt.

“Yes, please enter.”

As I replied and shifted into a seated posture, Ransi unlatched the carriage door and stepped inside.

“How are you feeling?”

I offered a subtle, weary grin.

“My status… is manageable.”

“Please endure just a bit longer. We shall resume our journey once mid-day meals are concluded, and we ought to reach Amera prior to nightfall. There, you will be able to recuperate in far greater luxury than this.”

“Haha, quite so. I feel as though I am proving to be an encumbrance.”

Hearing my frail tone, Ransi shook her head in disagreement.

“Not at all. For the present, your sole obligation is your recovery.”

With those words, Ransi offered a polite bow and departed.

I paused until the door clicked firmly shut before collapsing backward once more.

“…Blast it all.”

The expletive escaped my lips unbidden.

Fine. I will confess.

Even after the grand feast concluded, I refused to abandon the scheme. Reflecting on the matter, there was absolutely no incentive to abandon it. If one can expect to expectorate blood merely from a passing brush with an individual, then surely a plummeting autumn leaf could elicit the same dramatic reaction.

‘Since antiquity, it has been understood that a spellcaster’s internal trauma defies all predictability.’

That was a verified maxim within the discipline. Truly delicate practitioners could begin violently vomiting blood on the spot if subjected to a jarring noise mid-meditation.

Regardless, a fresh avenue had materialized thanks to a shift in perspective.

I took a tumble.

Where exactly?

‘Down the stairwell.’

While returning to my quarters following the banquet when the corridors were deserted, I threw myself down half a flight of stairs and bellowed.

In all candor, the presentation itself was impeccable.

Ransi, Chenbi, and even Demian, alongside the various attendants stationed near the young master’s pavilion, rushed over at the commotion. The audience was ideal.

And the performance was flawless. The plot was solid as well.

‘I am merely a delicate, frail Troubleshooter.’

A abrupt alteration in surroundings inflicts tremendous psychological strain. It is entirely plausible to experience terror during your inaugural aristocratic celebration, and if frozen by fear, losing your footing is a natural consequence.

Then why was I currently confined to this transport?

Because I had completely failed to account for one detail.

‘The Fairies’ Dance is fundamentally a crisis of mana oversaturation.’

And ambient mana serves to empower spellcasters. Granted, under normal circumstances, remaining in Brando would have been wiser, but the Fairies’ Dance represented an extraordinary concentration of energy.

What I bartered for by spitting blood that afternoon amounted to only a single shift.

Sightseeing—swapped for medical convalescence.

Ah, there was an additional outcome.

‘The transport was transformed into my personal sanctuary.’

That was the grand total of my achievement.

…Blast it all.

Following a brief meal, the entourage from Brando set out toward Amera.

I retreated to the recovery carriage, once again becoming practically glued to the cot. Contrary to my apprehensions, the trek proceeded with absolute tranquility.

‘In truth, even fretting over it was nonsensical.’

Consider the circumstances.

This was the personal retinue of Brando’s heir. The singular, unrivaled successor to the lineage.

Naturally, the security detail comprised the absolute elite of the realm, possessing a scale capable of subjugating a modest territory without breaking a sweat.

‘Two Nine Stars were deployed for this journey, for heaven’s sake.’

Under such conditions, what threat could a wyvern pose? Even if a dragon wraith materialized, it would be swiftly dealt with. Yes. Precisely.

No… it absolutely had to be that way.

At any rate, discarding my lingering anxieties, I evaluated the advantageous aspects of this excursion.

For one, the event of the Fairies’ Dance itself presented a unique prospect.

‘I recall hearing that the concentration of mana there surpasses even the Hamelin Great Forest?’

For someone like me attempting to forge circles, that piece of intelligence held immense significance. The sole reason I managed to manifest my initial circle using only environmental energy was due to the preternaturally dense mana within the Hamelin Great Forest.

Naturally, if asked whether I could replicate that feat under normal conditions, the answer would be negative, but one can never be entirely certain. With an energy density that profound, I might uncover an alternative path.

Therefore, since I am making the trip regardless—

‘Let us dedicate our absolute focus to the circles.’

I patted my sated stomach and fortified my resolve. If I failed to accomplish at least that much, the entire ordeal would be pathetically wasteful.

Thus, a considerable duration elapsed.

“Companion! Step outside!”

I had drifted into a light slumber, but Demian’s shout shattered my grogginess. The exact moment my eyelids fluttered open, the carriage paneling burst wide.

“May I enter?”

“It appears you already have.”

“That is of minor consequence at the moment.”

“…?”

I tilted my head, observing Demian, who seemed uncharacteristically animated. What was it? Had another crisis materialized?

I tensed as a familiar dread crept over me, but Demian’s subsequent statement relieved my anxiety.

“They announce our arrival.”

“We have arrived?”

“Indeed, Amera! Step out into the open. An immense body of water awaits!”

It was accurate. We had finally crossed into the borders of the Amera territory.

The Amera zone, by reputation, serves as the birthplace for numerous unique resources, with countless bodies of water—both grand and minor—interspersing the landscape. However, a common misconception is that Amera is primarily aquatic, when its dense woodlands actually encompass a far greater area than its lakes.

The instant Aster stepped down from the vehicle, a subtle smile touched his lips as the crisp fragrance of the woods invaded his senses.

‘Aha. My intuition of impending trouble has only intensified.’

He had finally managed to jumpstart his optimistic mindset, yet the moment he beheld a landscape mirroring the Hamelin Great Forest, his enthusiasm plummeted.

Nevertheless, that trepidation evaporated shortly thereafter, courtesy of the immediate environment.

Unlike the Hamelin Great Forest, which functioned as a sanctuary for beasts rather than civilization, Amera possessed a distinct aura of human habitation. Even at this moment—observe.

Directly ahead, the vista offered nothing but thick canopies, yet the moment he turned around, the markers of society were unmistakable.

What did that indicate? A settlement… perhaps a bit expansive to be classified as a mere village, but regardless—it signaled the presence of a proper municipality.

As Aster exhaled a silent sigh of relief at the sight, Demian, who had wandered off briefly, reappeared clutching an implement.

“…?”

“Angling.”

What Demian held in his grasp was a fishing rod.

“Care to accompany me?”

“No, I shall decline.”

Aster dismissed Demian’s invitation without a second thought. Angling was hardly a pastime he enjoyed, and darkness would envelop them shortly. Even if he consented, it was entirely certain that Ransi would intervene to restrict him.

Consequentially, as Demian departed solo to cast his line—

Aster remained stationary, quietly absorbing the panoramic view before him.

“Even so, viewing it from this perspective… it truly does resemble a holiday…”

It was far from unpleasant.

A modest urban center constructed along the shoreline of the vast lake, hemmed in entirely by a dense thicket of trees. Vessels of various sizes drifted across the expansive waters, and inexplicably, the panorama instilled a sense of serenity.

‘Yes. Given that events have unfolded this way, let us embrace proper relaxation.’

His internal state continued to waver between apprehension and serenity, but the time had come to anchor his mind. To remain steadfast.

Once more, Aster drew the pure atmosphere deep into his chest, casting away the absolute final remnants of his anxiety.

Indeed. On occasion, such intervals are mandatory.

Since his regression, he had pressed forward continuously without a single instance of genuine repose. So, just on this solitary occasion—certainly. There must exist periods where absolutely nothing occurs.

An elite security detachment safeguarding Brando’s successor, supplemented by two Nine Stars. Who possessed the audacity to instigate a conflict against such force?

Virtually no one. Absolutely no one.

An entity capable of shattering this defensive array to execute a plot? Ah—if an adversary of that caliber exists, one should simply offer up their throat with dignity. What alternate course remains?

Therefore.

“Let us recuperate. To our heart’s content.”

It was a deeply soothing sentiment.

Yet, a mere heartbeat later—

“…Hold on, if the defensive force gathered here is grander, does that not imply the impending catastrophe will be proportionally massive?”

An abrupt, terrifying premonition caused a freezing sensation to ripple down his spine.