Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal trekked up the slope. The gravel nearly slipped under him, but he managed to adjust his feet and catch himself and prevent his fall.

"So," she said. "You gained magic. A core. You should be proud."

"Why should I be proud?"

"That level of power is rare among the peasantry."

"Yes."

"Of course, I do notice that you still serve him as a maid. Does that bother you?"

"No."

Mal was tempted to plug his ears. Beside him, toward the back, Savaly was engaged in a riveting conversation with Lusia. Savaly's walking form—and goodness, Mal had never thought he'd ever think about something like that—was annoyingly perfect. Just like everything else about her was annoyingly perfect. They'd been walking for nearly an hour, and were working their way up the base of the mountain. Despite that, she didn't look winded in the slightest.

Granted, Lusia looked fine as well.

Mal, on the other hand, had wanted to drop dead and take a nap about five minutes into the exercise. The thin altitude, even at the base of the mountain, was killer to him, and unlike Savaly, he didn't have the physical body that would be associated with an S-grade core.

Lusia was just a freak of nature, and she probably had some insane "Herald of Victory" buff he was unaware of.

"You still haven't explained why you've been following me," Mal glanced back and looked at her. "Seriously, don't you have a bunch of followers who would be happy to walk with you?"

"Yes, but none of them are as interesting as you, Mal," she said. "And besides, I'm in need of someone as strong and powerful as you—"

"That is the thinnest excuse I think I've ever heard."

"Perhaps I simply wanted to spend time with you. I've invited you out to more lunches, but for some reason I never receive a reply."

"Oh, must have gotten lost in the mail or something."

This was a lie. Mal had, in fact, received the letters, and had promptly set them on fire.

"Master, if her presence is unwanted, should I remove her?" Lusia said.

Savaly raised a single eyebrow.

Mal's head drooped. "As much as I would like you to do that, I'm pretty sure that would only end with both of our faces embedded in the side of the mountain."

Lusia didn't respond, nor did she look over at Savaly.

Savaly coughed into her hand.

"You know, the offer to become my direct vassal is still open," she said. "If you ever change your mind, I'd—"

"Thanks for the offer, not gonna happen."

She laughed. "Very well, Mal."

They came to a particularly steep section, and Mal traced a path up with his eyes. He'd have to go around to the side to avoid the gravel slipping under him. After that, the rock would transition to a more standard, solid rocky surface. Unfortunately, it was also significantly steeper, from what Mal could see.

He broke left and noted that the other two weren't following him. He glanced back to see what they were doing. Lusia had elected to climb perfectly straight up. Savaly held out her hand and cast a spell, then walked straight up to Lusia's side, but with visibly less effort and at a perfectly vertical walking position.

"Show-offs," Mal muttered as he turned back to face his own path.

He eventually reached the top a full two minutes after the other two had already gotten there.

"Oh, good, you made it." Savaly's gaze flickered over to him before facing back toward the mountain. "You probably want to take a look at this."

"Take a look at what—?"

At the particular angle they were at, they could now see a storm on the horizon, slowly pushing directly toward the mountain. A cold wind hit them, and Mal hugged himself to preserve a little warmth.

The mountain itself had, as he'd thought, turned abruptly steeper. There would be points at which they would only have to do a tight walk, but even down here, it looked like they'd be scrambling up the side like monkeys. The sun reflected off the top of the mountain, which was capped with snow that Mal suspected would prove problematic once they arrived there.

He sighed and stepped forward. "Right, let's get going."

Mal, for the most part, relied on mana circulation and the occasional boost with his Airgrass boots. Even then, it was hard work. His chest and back ached with the pain of having lifted him straight up the steep cliffside. His fingers stung, both the cold and the rock digging into his skin. He was able to fend off the worst of it thanks to mana circulation, but it was still painful and probably would result in some damage that would need to be repaired once they were off the mountain.

He reached up and hauled his body further. Something inside of him clenched. He'd done mana circulation without his core, but it had been in short bursts. Sustained loads like this were new to him, and he was regretting not having tested how long he could keep it up before they went on this little expedition.

"Need a hand, my dear rival?"

He turned his head to the right. Savaly stood on what seemed to be nothing at all, though the tips of her boots were pressed against the wall. When he looked below them, he could faintly see shimmering artificial platforms.

Channeling mana below her feet and connecting it to the rock wall. Clever. And annoying.

"No," Mal stared up at his next set of handholds. "I'm fine."

"There's no shame in asking for help, you know—"

"Master, take my hand."

Lusia, ahead of him, was on the edge of the cliffside and had held out her hands for him to take.

Mal shrugged internally and reached out and took them. With her help, he was able to scramble up the side and reach the outcropping she was on.

A small grunt.

His gaze flickered to the edge of his vision where Savaly had followed them. She was looking at Lusia with something that Mal approximated to be vague annoyance, a strange sharpness to her eyes. He ignored her and checked their surroundings. It was already turning evening, and the storm was coming in.

"We're not going to be able to climb through a snowstorm," Mal said. "Let's find somewhere to set up."

The creases around her eyes softened and Savaly looked off to where the storm was slowly rolling in. "Indeed. While I'd hate to lose progress, I'd also hate to lose my life."

They searched around and eventually found a small cave in the side of the mountain wall. With no better option, they went in and Lusia set up a campfire with some dead branches she'd found outside from the handful of trees that had somehow managed to grow this high up. Savaly used her force platform spell to shovel and form the snow into a wall to cover the entrance of the cave. She then made a flame and held out her hand to melt the wall and make it stronger.

Mal, figuring he should make himself useful, brought out some ingredients from his satchel. Not the magical ones, the mundane ones. Some tomatoes, some fruits, some vegetables—and then he took out his Nettleleaf dagger and started slicing them.

"I don't suppose you happen to bring along a pot?" he said.

"No, Master."

A new voice.

"Here, let me."

Savaly walked over to them and held out her hand. A small pot slowly formed out of unaligned mana and rested atop the campfire. It was significantly slower to form compared to the walls that she'd created earlier, or the platforms.

"You're modifying the spell on the fly," Mal said. "Impressive."

"Impressive, but slow. It really is only meant for creating platforms, square and rectangular. If I make a new variant of this spell meant for making pots, then memorize and practice it, I would be able to do it quicker—but obviously that would be ridiculous."

Mal hummed and poured out his ingredients, then handed out his mortar to Lusia. "Use this to scoop up some snow so we can use it for liquid."

She nodded and walked over to the makeshift snow walls and started chipping away at the now-hard snow-ice mix.

"Was that a mortar?" Savaly said. "I assume you've been actively using it."

"Yes, I have."

"So that means we're going to have magical herb powder mixed in with the food, due to the remaining mixture inside the mortar.

"It'll be small enough concentrations that it won't actually do anything. Besides, these mortars are warded to prevent too much residue from building up."

Lusia came back with a heaping bowlful of snow. She poured it into the pot, and Mal brought a spoon from his satchel and slowly stirred. He glanced around at the interior of the cave and saw some mushrooms that he recognized from his time on the march. He stood up, got them, then diced them into small chunks and put them into the stew. He poured a few spices into the mixture that he'd been smart enough to bring along, then let it cook for a little bit longer.

Before long, it was finished. He brought out a bowl from his satchel, then frowned.

"Savaly, can you make a—

"A bowl? I can, unfortunately."

Mal poured out the stew into his own bowl, then into the other two bowls that Savaly made. Mal slurped up his food and found that it had come out relatively well.

Two other slurps came from the other side of the campfire. Savaly had taken a sip and had made a pleased noise. Lusia ate and chewed with her standard stoic expression, though Mal saw the slight widening of her eyes.

Savaly brought the bowl away from her face. "You're not a bad cook, Mal. I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Oh, you learn to make do," Mal said as he looked into his bowl. "Being on the move is already miserable enough, it's important that people at least decent food."

"On the move? From what?"

Crap. Mal had gotten too relaxed.

"Oh, you know, camping," Mal waved her off. "What about you? Did the royal education involve any cooking?"

"Of course not. I have an army of servants for that exact task. I believe that my educators would have thrown a fit if they'd found that I was wasting time on cooking."

"Would it really be that much of a waste? What if you're separated from your servants?"

"Ideally, I'm never separated from my servants."

Mal gestured at the current situation.

She chuckled. "Yes, but that was by choice. And even then, I knew that you were the sort who'd be prepared for a situation like this."

She took another sip of her food.

"I believe that my father would be most shocked to see me consuming a common stew." The half-smile faded. "No, I suspect he wouldn't actually be interested, come to think of it."

"Why would your father not be interested?"

Mal jerked. It hadn't been him who'd spoken. It had been Lusia. She'd stopped eating and was looking at Savaly with what might have passed for a curious gaze.

"He doesn't love you?" Lusia said. "He's like Mal's father?"

Mal placed his head in his hands and let out a small groan. "Lusia, why would you say that?"

A startled laugh ripped from Savaly's throat. She looked over at Mal with a dry smirk.

"You need to teach your maid some manners," she said. "That tongue of hers is going to get her killed."

"I'm confused. Was what I said offensive?"

"A bit," Savaly said. "But to answer your question, I don't know, and I don't particularly care."

Something sharpened in her eyes as she looked at Lusia. "Love is irrelevant," she said. "Both my father and I are tools, to be used in whatever way would most benefit the kingdom of Chama. In my case, that means I'll likely end up in a political marriage to secure an alliance, and act as a fail-safe alongside the Headmaster. In my older brother's case, he is to direct the nation in such a way that it results in prosperity for as many citizens as possible. Love has no place there. It would only serve as a distraction."

Mal stoked the flames of the campfire. "How charming. And bizarrely idealistic."

The sharpness disappeared from Savaly's gaze and that easy smile returned. She shrugged. "That's what Father always told us. I'm just repeating what he said. Who knows if that's how things are actually run?"

Lusia stared into the fire. There was a tautness to her shoulders. Mal looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"Fathers should love their children."

Savaly hummed and shifted back, leaning against the floor. "If you're a peasant or lower nobility, that kind of mindset makes sense. But I'm not convinced it applies for those of us at the top. Mal knows what I mean, don't you, Mal?"

Mal shrugged. "The Lord of House Patoal certainly didn't care much for me, but I don't think that's because he was trying to train me to be a weapon for the sake of my land."

"Oh? Then what is he doing?"

"I don't know, drinking?"

I remember that much from my first life. Man always had a flask in hand.

"Talking about our family history isn't quite what I had in mind when we started going up this mountain," he said.

"I think it's perfectly delightful," Savaly looked over at Lusia. "And what of you? I suppose that you have a loving family?"

"My mother is dead and my father is comatose."

Mal winced at her bluntness. The woman really had a talent for delivering the gravest news with the straightest of faces.

Savaly's eyes widened. "Oh, sorry?"

"Why are you apologizing? Were you responsible for his state?"

"No, but it's the correct thing to say, isn't it?"

"Why?"

"That's—" Savaly stopped. "A good question."

Mal had never seen a more awkward exchange in his life.

A pause.

"Is it curable?" Savaly asked.

"Likely not." Lusia paused. "Though I intend to try."

"Ah, a goal. Good, if unrealistic. How did he fall into a coma?"

Lusia froze.

It was pain, sharp and visceral and wholly unlike Lusia, that flashed across her face and stayed there in a way that Mal—Mal had never seen her make such an expression.

"I—" She stared at her hands. "It—"

A crack.

Mal's head swiveled toward the ice wall that Savaly had made.

Another crack. Hairline fractures spread across the surface of the wall.

All at once, the wall caved in and a giant figure sped through it and directly toward Mal.

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