by Funa
In Adele’s life up to this point, she had always been able to hold back, almost subconsciously, carrying on her act as a normal girl with normal abilities. It was because of this that it had taken her until several days after the return of her memories to notice anything was off.
Now, if Adele exerted even a bit of strength, even unconsciously, her power would grow to a whole new level.
It was not unlike the gears shifting in an automatic car, the increase in horsepower creating an excess of torque.
What would happen if that level of strength were poured into a wooden sword?
Normally, when two swords exchanged blows, the force of one sword canceled out that of the other. However, if one sword remained stationery, the entire force of the second’s blow was reflected back into the arms of the swordsman.
It was as good as striking a lump of iron, and accordingly, there was an extremely high chance that one’s arms would go numb, causing the sword to fall. And this was exactly what had happened to Kelvin.
“That’s the match!” Burgess said.
“N-no! My hands slipped!” Kelvin protested as their teacher signaled the end of the match.
Burgess’s reply was exasperated. “Is that what you would you say if you dropped your sword on the battlefield? Would you say to your opponent, ‘Oh, just a moment please! My hand slipped! Would you give me a second to retrieve my sword?’”
“Er…”
This was not going well.
Even Adele, who was ignorant when it came to the subtleties of swordplay, could tell that this was not a favorable situation. She, a rank amateur, had bested a boy who was both confident and incredibly strong. Even though she had claimed it was her first time using a sword…
This was no good. For a “normal girl,” this was no good at all.
“U-um! I can keep going…” Kelvin said.
“Oh?” Burgess seemed intrigued as he turned to address Kelvin, who silently retrieved his sword. “What will you do?”
What will I do? Adele wondered. If she simply dropped her sword, it would be obvious she was faking. She would have to take a blow.
Adele readied her sword to fight again.
Kelvin’s stance changed, and the clash of blades began anew.
Although he hadn’t had enough time to recover from his previous exertions, neither had his opponent. And given that girls had little physical strength, it was only natural that she would be terribly exhausted. With this idea in mind, Kelvin charged again and again. Yet Adele continued to block each blow with precision.
As the fight continued, Adele showed no signs of tiring, and Kelvin began to grow impatient once more. Due to the violence of his assault, he was already reaching his limit. He could feel himself getting tired: his grip on the sword was beginning to weaken, and his breath grew ragged.
Why? he raged. Why can’t I land a single blow?! Against this girl—this amateur?!
Losing was not permitted—not by Kelvin’s standards.
***
As for Adele, she continued to block each of Kelvin’s blows almost reflexively, still lamenting the difficulty of losing the fight in a way that would appear natural and would not involve getting hurt.
She would prefer not to be struck anywhere without protection, or indeed, in any place where the leather was thin or weakened. Given that she had hardly wavered in the face of Kelvin’s earlier blows, it would look ridiculous for her to simply drop her sword casually. So distracted was Adele by these worries, that it didn’t occur to her that this level of speed, strength, and endurance was completely beyond the capacities of a normal ten-year-old. Nor that Kelvin, who was himself leagues ahead of the other freshmen, would be beginning to tire as well.
The battle continued until…
Now!
Kelvin’s form was crumbling, and his swings now were considerably weaker than those that had come before. Seeing that any chance to lose the battle would soon pass by her, Adele purposely slowed her own movements, turning her body in such a way as to allow Kelvin’s sword to strike her right on the spot where the leather of her armor was thickest.
All she needed to do know was pretend that she had no time to protect herself.
She tensed her body and squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the pain of the blow.
…Huh?
The attack never came, and after several moments, Adele opened her eyes.
There was Kelvin, red in the face and trembling with rage, and next to him, Burgess, with an expression that said something along the lines of “Now you’ve done it.”
“Stop messing with me!” Kelvin shouted, then tossed his sword down on the ground and stomped away.
Adele stood, slack-jawed, not understanding.
“You know, kid… You ought to be more considerate of a man’s pride,” Mr. Burgess said. Behind him, the other students nodded.
What happened? What had Adele done wrong?
“Well, it is what it is,” their teacher went on. “I don’t blame him for getting mad, so I guess we won’t punish him for skipping class… this time. Now, the rest of you pair up and try sparring.”
The students split up into pairs and began practicing, but with Kelvin gone there was an odd number, leaving Adele on her own. Even Marcela avoided meeting her eyes.
How did this happen? Adele asked herself.
The handle of the wooden sword that she had gripped for so long was now dented with an impression of her fingers, rendering it unusable.
***
It was the first day of magic lessons and Adele was determined not to mess up the way she had last time.
Among the class of thirty, about six of them showed a spark of true magical prowess, while maybe nine more would be able to achieve at least an everyday level of proficiency. Overall, the proportion of skilled users was a bit higher than the norm, but this was no real surprise. It was only natural that those who hoped to become career magicians would do whatever they could to get into a decent school.
“To start, why don’t we try a few of the tasks that you learned about in your classroom lessons? Remember, this goes for all of you, whether or not you are able to use magic. Understanding magical technique, even if only in theory, will be useful to you going forward.”
At the direction of their instructor, Ms. Michella, the students began to recite their spells.
Next to Adele, the Marcela Trio was putting in a good effort.
Marcela’s abilities were of the everyday sort, while it appeared that Monika and Aureana had no magical capacity whatsoever.
Typically, the strength of a magic user was determined by the power they could produce with a single spell, how long they could maintain that spell, and how much time they would need to recover before repeating it.
No matter how strong the spell you produced was, if it could only last a few seconds or if it took a long time for you to recharge before you could use that spell again, your abilities were not particularly useful. On the other hand, even if your output was weak, those who were able to cast continuously and recharge quickly often proved handy.
In other words, someone who could summon only five liters of water at once, but could do so three times in a row—or someone who could summon only two liters at once, but recovered in an hour—was in far greater demand than someone who could summon ten liters only once per day.
Battlefield magic was the only place where, depending on the circumstances, raw power might be useful. However, this was an exception, not the rule.
Hmm?
As she watched her three friends cast their spells, something strange occurred to Adele. However, they were in the middle of class, so she banished the thought from her mind—she would deal with it later.
After they practiced their incantations, Ms. Michella, who was the perfect sort of person to be a teacher, allowed all those who could use magic to do so, while those who could not looked on in order to “become familiar with the phenomenon.”
Although Adele succ
eeded in using only the most normal of magic, when class ended, she felt a tad disappointed, as though her aim had been off.
“Um, could I have a bit of your time after class?” she asked Marcela, who could not deny such an earnest request from Adele, and readily agreed.
***
After school that same day…
“I’m sorry to make you come all the way out here.”
Adele had brought the three girls to a grove a short walk outside of the capital’s north gates.
“Wh-what are we doing in a place like this?”
“Sorry. There’s something that I wanted to talk to you about… But first—can you promise to keep all of this a secret?”
“O-of course, that’s fine.”
Following Marcela’s lead, Monika and Aureana nodded emphatically.
“Um, well.” Adele began. “Don’t you think it’s odd the way that we all use magic…?”
The three girls looked at her, confused.
“Um, well, when I was watching everyone in class, it seemed like they were concentrating really hard on their spells…”
“Well, yes,” replied Marcela. “That’s because spells are the most important part of using magic… Aren’t they?”
“They aren’t,” Adele said.
“Huh?”
All three girls were stunned.
“Spells are nothing more than a way to assist you in forming the image of the magic you want to produce. It doesn’t really matter what words you use. As long as you can form the image, you can use magic without even speaking. Haven’t you noticed that people who use magic don’t all use the same spells—and some people can do it silently?”
“Th-that is true…”
Slowly, Marcela was beginning to understand what Adele was getting at.
“Honestly,” Adele continued, “what’s most important is forming a strong image in your head—an image of what kind of magic you want to use and how you want to use it. Then, you make that image radiate outside of you. In terms of spells, all you really need are a few words that suit your image.”
The three of them stared blankly. Adele’s explanation of magic was nothing like anything they had ever heard before.
“A few words?” Marcela exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing! Even in silent casting, we were taught that you must still incant the words of the spell before releasing the magic. What do you mean by ‘radiate,’ anyway?
Adele explained the concept of radiating a thought pulse. The three looked skeptical.
“And as far as images… When you want to produce water, just imagine squeezing it out of the air, like wringing a wet towel. Go ahead, give it a try.”
Among them, the most curious was Monika, the merchant’s daughter, who couldn’t use magic at all. She was the first to attempt it.
“Umm… Water, water, come on out, water squeezed from the sky!”
Ka-splash!
“Huh…?”
About ten liters of water poured down in front of Monika, muddying the ground. Monika, who was supposed to be completely without magical powers! And now, she was exhibiting not the basic magic of everyday convenience, but the magic of someone with real potential—assuming, of course, that she possessed the casting frequency and recovery time of a capable magician. And if training allowed…
“No way.” Monika was flabbergasted.
As it happened, water magic had a great deal of utility for a merchant.
Humans required, at bare minimum, two liters of water a day. When journeying in scorching heat, of course, this need became even greater. On top of all that, a horse required something closer to thirty or forty liters a day.
For example, how much water would a driver of a horse-drawn carriage with three guards need to carry to survive a twenty-day journey, with no water sources along the route?
The answer would be roughly 1,600 liters, or 1.6 tons. Combined with food for the humans and horses, that begins to encroach on the space one has for storing one’s wares.
However, if you had access to a magician who could produce ten liters of water every hour? That was a different story.
As a middle-class merchant’s daughter, Monika already had a number of advantages. Now, on top of those other assets, she was an attractive girl who could also double as a giant water cask. Her value as a merchant had just risen immensely.
More importantly, though she had older brothers and sisters, the chances of her ending up as the mistress to someone of influence had decreased dramatically. At the very least, she would most likely be able to land a man of some wealth—or, better still, the son of a higher-class merchant…
“This can’t… this can’t be!” Monika fell to her knees.
At this, Aureana cried out, “W-water! Water squeezed from the air, show yourself before me! Aqua sphere, appear!”
The words sounded as though she were reading them from an unfamiliar book.
Splish!
There was nowhere near as much water as Monika had produced, but still, it was something. Enough that she would never need to carry a water skin, or fetch water from the well for cooking and bathing.
“Ha! Aha ha ha ha!”
“I-It can’t…”
Monika had watched the other two in stunned silence, but as her senses returned, she made her own attempt at the spell. She had been able to produce water from the start. And so now…
“O, water! Squeeze from the air and become my spear…! Fly forth, to pierce my enemies!”
Ka-splat!
A jet of water struck a tree ten meters away with a splash.
It was not enough to pierce the trunk, but regardless, it was a fine attack spell, one that would at least be enough to disable an enemy.
“I-I did it! An attack spell!” Marcela’s voice trembled.
A mere ten percent of people had the magical skills necessary to put food on the table. Of these, most had civilian jobs, replenishing water supplies and replacing fuel. Only one in several dozen was equipped to use combat magic.
Unlike magic that simply conjured water or fire, combat spells came with a number of additional hurdles. Rather than simply producing the substance in question, one also had to condense it, imbuing your spell with enough kinetic energy to propel it forth with sufficient power and speed.
And for those with an incomplete knowledge of magic’s true principles, it required considerable talent to radiate a thought pulse silently, without using an appropriate spell.
The people of this world believed that, whether or not you opened your mouth, you needed “words of power” to work magic, and as a result, a great deal of effort went into putting the right words together rather than forming a concrete image of the spell’s desired effect. This meant that it was difficult to produce magic continuously or spontaneously.
Rather than casting spells by radiating the pulse of an image, they believed that the effect was contained within the words themselves, which were heard and granted by mysterious beings. And of course, these spells did work as they were intended, thereby confirming this belief. It was thus that the people devoted themselves to researching incantations, never thinking that the success of their spells might be due to other factors.
As for combat magic, those who could manifest it had one of two strengths: the ability to create a clear image or thought pulse; or the capacity to radiate that pulse with great power. In neither case was this a process in which the user of magic engaged consciously; rather, when they cast spells, their subconscious powers allowed them to succeed where so many failed.
Thus, those who could use the so-called combat magic were fairly few.
And now, Marcela had just managed to employ it—with ease.
How many beautiful girls of noble birth could add that to their list of accomplishments?
With Marcela as a wife, you would always have a defender by your side, even as you slept. Furthermore, her talent might be passed down to children or grandchildren.
How much value wo
uld someone like that have in the eyes of an aristocrat with enemies?
Marcela would be receiving many favorable proposals. Most certainly.
Her imagined future as the second wife of some old man or the mistress of an influential noble were vanishing swiftly in favor of new paths.
“Sniff. Waaahhh…”
Adele had only planned to help her friends as a small thank you for their kindnesses to her and had never thought of the immense difference this knowledge would make in their lives. As they wept, she looked on in complete bewilderment.
Perhaps this had been a mistake?
“U-um, actually, we need to keep this kind of confidential, so… The next time we have magic practice, maybe you could pretend that all of this is a surprise to you? Like ‘Whoa, how did I do that?’ And could you try, maybe, to leave the ‘from the sky’ part out of your spells, if you can? Maybe just think that part in your head rather than saying it…”
Eventually, when the three girls were calmer, they understood exactly what she meant.
It would be disastrous for a secret like this to get out. If it were known that the differences between those who could use magic and those who could not were actually negligible—as well as the fact that those differences could be erased with little effort and that magical ability could be increased with only a few simple techniques—there would have been an enormous uproar. Adele would possibly be imprisoned for telling the truth, pressured for information by royal agents, or worse still, killed by her father and jealous stepmother for thwarting their plans…
“N-naturally!” Marcela stuttered. “There is no noble who would ever betray their benefactor…No, their friend!”
“There’s no future for a merchant who breaks her bonds!”
“A-and, and… a peasant always keeps her promises!”
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” They all laughed together.
Two days later, at magic practice, Ms. Michella was ecstatic to see the three girls’ magical talents suddenly bloom, one after the other. It was clearly the product of her good teaching.