Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal was dissociating from the situation.

Savaly had spoken, but the words were being put together in a way that didn't make sense to him.

Direct Vassal? What is she on about?

He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What would that entail?”

“It's quite simple. Rather than the king, House Patoal would report to me. Technically it would be a downgrade in rank, but it's no matter. The prestige from serving royalty would boost your reputation greatly."

Mal genuinely had no idea what to make of this offer.

"I, uh—" He scrambled for an excuse. "—you're going to have to talk with my father about that."

She waved him off.

"Do you really think that I wouldn't be able to instate you as the head of your household if that's what it took? He'll fall in line or he'll be cast aside."

"Er—"

"And meetings with me would become much easier," she said. "Our rivalry would be unimpeded by these pesky social difficulties. As my vassal, nobody would blink twice if I were to request your presence."

"Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I'm kind of busy, so—"

"Pardon me, what did you just say?"

Her head tilted by an inch. Mal's throat turned dry and he gulped instinctively.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm just not really in need of your help."

"I knew that you were sheltered from the world of upper politics," she said. "But even you must understand what an immense honor I'm granting you. I only have a small number of direct vassals. Every one of them is prestiged and esteemed—as they should be, for they serve me. And you're going to throw that away?"

Mal nodded. "Yeah. Have a good day."

He turned around, grabbed Lusia's hand, and walked off. He didn't dare to turn around, unsure what look he'd find on Savaly's face.

"Master, can you release my hand?"

Mal jerked up, then ran his eyes past his shoulder to his hand. He had, indeed, kept his grip clasped around Lusia's fingertips. He let go and shook his hand. "Sorry. Probably shouldn't have done that, but it's fine."

Lusia rested both hands in front of her. "Your father will be most displeased," she said.

He slowed to a stop and turned to face her. "Oh?"

"As Savaly said, direct vassalship to a member of royalty would be a great honor."

"Yes, but Father is a duke. He's already vassaled to the king."

She shook her head. "His position was inherited, as are the positions of the other dukes. The king and the dukes are in opposition, they don't work together. Besides that, you know as well as I do that your father's dukedom is a lie. There's significantly more prestige to be had by serving as a direct vassal of the second princess."

"Where did you learn all that from?"

"It was covered in one of the classes. If I am to be your servant, I must be prepared to assist you in every way possible, including politics."

Mal worked his jaw in slow circles.

It would be easy to justify his decision after the fact. He didn't want to be tied too closely to someone as dangerous as Savaly. He didn't want to have her with her eye over his shoulder. He wanted to avoid the spotlight, and becoming the direct vassal to Savaly would all but guarantee that he'd be put at center stage, even if she'd manage to take most of the spotlight.

But the truth was far simpler than that.

"The fact that she cornered you really irritated me."

Lusia blinked. "What do you mean?"

Mal shook his head. "From now on, try to travel with the other maids. She's so brazen she might still come up to you, but it'll probably reduce the likelihood. She'll weigh things out and decide that bothering you would be too much effort."

Lusia did a slow nod.

"I see."

Her gaze locked onto his own face, and Mal reached up and scratched his cheek. "What? What's wrong?"

"Your skin is pale. You're covered in sweat. Did you consume another brew that you shouldn't have?"

Mal found a laugh slipping out of him before he could stop it.

"No. No, it was just—"

Golial. And then the mana of the heroine.

"I thought I saw someone," he said. "Someone familiar."

"Who?"

The pain in his chest throbbed. "I think she's the only person I fear in the world."

"Savaly?"

He laughed.

"No. Not her. Someone else."

His hand drifted up to just over his heart, and he applied firm pressure to it. "She injured me, you see. And I think I'm starting to realize that the injury was more than just physical."

Was she even here? Was it nothing more than a figment of my imagination? If that's the case, can I no longer rely on my mind?

What a terrifying thought. To have a second chance only to waste it all because his brain had been damaged beyond repair.

His heart beat faster and he stumbled to the side. His hand reached out and grabbed the side of the wall. His knees collapsed under him, he caught himself from falling using his other hand, digging it into the dirt.

He'd worn himself out. Stayed up the whole night, battling with Golial, then tying himself in knots over the possibility of the heroine being there—

And now his body was falling apart in front of his maid.

How humiliating.

The grass in front of him shifted. The sound of someone kneeling and crunching against the ground..

A warm sensation touched his head.

"There. There."

Mal slowly turned his head up from the dirt.

Lusia had knelt in front of him and had her hand extended and on top of his head.

The way she'd said those words was mechanical, without even the slightest tinge of inflection.

"I heard," she said. "That children, when worried, feel better after experiencing this. Did it work?"

Her face was muted and neutral.

Something bubbled up inside of Mal's chest. A laugh ripped its way out of his throat. The tension drained from him and he collapsed to the ground.

"Did I do it incorrectly?" she said, her voice a little faster. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—" He gasped for air. "Nothing at all, Lusia."

The laughter slowly died away and he managed to push himself off the grass. Lusia had remained in that kneeling position, not moving an inch.

He knew that she didn't truly care. He knew that she was just doing what she saw as her obligation. He knew all that. How could he not?

But when she did things like that, for just a moment, he could imagine that...

...that she cared for him.

He forced himself up into a kneeling position of his own, then slapped his palms on his thighs.

He leaned in.

"How would you like it if we fixed your core?"

Cassandra was going to kill him if she found out about this.

The infernal essence orb sat at the center of the table, the crowning mantle of the ingredients he'd collected. Some elder root he'd recently harvested was bunched up in a pile. Mortar and pestle off to the left. On the ground, a great big pot that he'd stolen from the kitchen, set on top of a makeshift fireplace.

"This seems somewhat dangerous."

Mal glanced back at the voice.

Lusia was sat on a stool, hands folded on top of each other on her lap, and her gaze dry and neutral. Her eyes followed his hands as he continued to grind together the ingredients even as she spoke.

"The worst threat should be to myself," he said. "You’ll be fine."

Lusia frowned. Her voice dropped to a low timbre.

"That doesn't exactly bring me comfort."

Mal perked up. "What was that?"

"Nothing, master."

Mal paid no heed to the words and finished grinding together the herbs.

As far as he knew, he was telling the truth. He was perfectly happy to experiment on someone like Philo or Rolam, but not Lusia. Every precaution that he could take, he would.

The only one in danger was him.

Just because it’s you that makes it okay? If you die, then the Cult will be free to wreak havoc. You’re making a foolish error—

Mal shut down the line of thought.

He turned back to the infernal essence orb.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone mallet. He set the infernal orb into a bowl, lifted his mallet up, then slammed it down directly on top of the orb.

Instantly, it shattered into a dozen pieces and red sparks of light lit up the air around it like fireworks. In real time, it melted into the bowl and created a viscous red liquid.

He added the herbal mix to the red liquid, then poured in some water. Finally, he poured out the mixture into the pot on top of the makeshift fireplace.

"Now the trick will be to time it correctly," he said. "Wait too long and the infernal essence will all get dried up and become useless. Use it too early and I risk turning my hand into a toad."

"Will you be able to turn it back?" Lusia said.

"If I had another infernal essence orb. And assuming that I don’t screw it up the second time around."

Mal watched as the viscous red mixed in with the water. Puffs of steam floated into the air from the slowly boiling water. It smelled horrendous, a mixture of perfume and rotten eggs.

Minutes passed. Mal kept his gaze locked on the pot.

He had to wait until the mixture had boiled together evenly.

He grabbed a stirring spoon and slowly spun the liquid around in circles. More and more of it boiled away and Mal found his heart beating in his chest.

A particularly large bubble popped and Mal hissed.

"What is it?" Lusia adjusted her position to get a better look at the pot.

Although Mal hadn’t wanted to do this, he didn’t have a choice.

"Lusia, I need your help." He continued stirring. "Grab that elder root and start grinding it up."

Lusia got off of the stool and went over to his mortar and pestle. She grabbed the elder root and immediately got to work. Her hands dived in and out of the bowl at a fast pace, steady rhythm. She was like a machine, the sound of the pestle hitting the mortar more like a drum in play than an alchemical tool at work.

Within a minute, she’d finished.

"Done," she said.

"Pour it in."

She stepped over to the bowl and tipped the mortar down. The flakes of brown pulverized elder root floated into the mixture. Immediately, the boiling calmed down and Mal breathed a sigh of relief.

"Couldn't you have just turned down the heat?" Lusia asked.

"The heat is only a partial contributor of the boiling effect. It’s actually the infernal essence that’s causing the water to act the way it is for the most part."

Mal continued stirring. The handle ehad turned green, which Mal took to be a good sign.

Despite being green, the texture was still wooden. The core essence hadn’t changed.

He took the pot off of the fire and set it down on top of a metal pan to the side.

There was only enough of the liquid left for one drink.

Mal grabbed a cup and set it down. He took both handles of the pot and poured it into the cup slowly.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"It’s done."

He picked up the cup and offered it to Lusia. She looked down at the liquid and her grip tightened around the rim.

"And you’re certain this will give me magic?" she said.

Mal nodded. "As sure as I can be about anything. At the end of the day, there’s a chance that it just doesn’t work. But this is the best shot you have."

Her lips opened up by a fraction of an inch. She lifted the tip of the cup toward her lips and tilted her head back.

The liquid flowed out of the cup and into her mouth. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed each and every drop.

Finally, she took the cup away from her lips and set it down on the table.

"How did it taste?" Mal asked.

"Disgusting."

Mal couldn’t help the small laugh that built up in his chest.

It disappeared as quickly as it came and he was left with nothing but a ball of anxiety in the pit of his gut. He observed her closely, watching for the slightest reaction.

She jolted in place, and her eyes fluttered rapidly.

Mal’s heart left his chest.

That wasn’t supposed to be the response.

Lusia didn’t have so much as a word or a chance to say anything before she tipped over backward and fell to the ground with a thud.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!