The Genius Mage Who Uses His Fists - Episode 20 (17/201)
Episode 20. Knights and Mages (2)
Due to a sudden invitation, we arrived at the knights’ quarters.
Riu tried to refuse, uneasy, but knowing Torres wasn’t the scheming type, he accepted calmly.
“Thank you for coming.”
Torres personally guided us inside.
A round table inside was laden with my favorite meat.
Real Vertisan beef?!
It was my first time seeing it since the Last Supper.
I’d never forgotten its taste from the camps. No amount of Weiji Mountain beef could compare—the difference in texture was too stark.
“Preparing something this precious? You’ve got style.”
“This is standard when hosting Arahan. I knew you’d like it. High protein for physical training.”
Physical training? What’s he implying?
Whatever.
All that mattered was the mountain of Vertisan beef before me.
I’m a foodie, not a glutton.
But my obsession stemmed from its protein richness, as Torres said. Taste mattered, but lifting my penalty mattered more.
“Let’s sit. No point lingering before a feast.”
The round table had no hierarchy—another deliberate gesture from Torres.
The more I saw him, the more I liked him, true to the character I’d once cherished. Even after I took a bite, Riu hesitated, fork in hand, haunted by memories.
“Is… this safe?”
“Trust me.”
Riu gulped, watching me eat. After wavering, he finally reached out.
At least Bahal knights upheld honor.
Knowing them well, I harbored no doubts.
“Wow! It melts in your mouth!”
“Better than the camp’s rations.”
“Obviously. Even my plebeian palate knows quality.”
The Verti Plains lay in the south, ruled by House Bahal. Naturally, the finest cuts went to them first.
Like how premium beef goes straight to the Blue House.
“You eat this daily? Jealous.”
“Your satisfaction pleases me. I pulled strings for the best.”
Torres preened at our reactions.
But nothing’s free. Lavish meals meant he wanted something.
As I opened my mouth to probe, a knight beside Torres slammed his utensils down.
“Sir Torres, forgive me. I can’t endure this disgrace.”
“Nor I. We take our leave.”
“Tolerating his presence at the outpost was one thing—but this? Unbearable.”
I’d expected this.
The knights had simmered since arrival. One by one, they stormed out, leaving only us and Torres.
“I… apologize for their rudeness. You being a mage…”
Torres faltered, flustered.
He squirmed, but I’d anticipated this.
To a Last Savior veteran, knights dining with mages was unthinkable.
A millennium of history isn’t light. We’d been enemies since birth, despite no personal grudge.
Even as invited guests, they saw this as dishonorable.
I patted Torres’ restless back.
“Don’t stress. It’s natural here.”
“Natural… You think so?”
“They’ve hated mages since childhood. Punishing them helps no one.”
“You shield them after insults? You, Arahan?”
“Mage or knight, understanding comes first. Comfort them, don’t scold.”
“Understanding… Another lesson learned.”
Torres hesitated, then confessed:
“I wanted to bond. Hence this reckless invitation.”
“Vertisan beef to befriend me? Classic Bahal.”
“What’s too costly for friendship? I’ll even secure you a premium supply route.”
Tempting.
Top-grade Vertisan beef wasn’t buyable with mere coin.
We’d barely begun building ties, yet he offered such luxury. Befriending him paid off.
“What do you want in return?”
“This isn’t a transaction.”
“Even friends trade favors. It eases burdens.”
Torres nodded. After pondering, he ventured:
“Delay going to Frilda by one day.”
“Why?”
“I’ll prove you’re trustworthy to my men. Break their prejudices, as I did.”
“Hmm.”
“In exchange, I’ll prioritize finding your brother. A knight’s oath.”
I glanced at Riu.
This wasn’t my call. Cheeks bulging with meat, Riu swallowed and shrugged.
“Fine. We need their help anyway. Otherwise, Frilda’s a dead end.”
“Deal.”
I accepted.
Next morning,
Riu and I breakfasted early with Torres.
After beef-and-potato stew, we headed to the southern front.
From Tamaya, the front was half a day on foot or under an hour horseback. Riu stayed behind—too dangerous.
“To see this in person…”
The frontlines unveiled a harrowing sight.
The towering walls and the knights standing guard atop them, ready for battle.
The tension hung thick enough to spark at a touch, yet the knights' overwhelming presence seemed to hold it at bay. Their immovable stances radiated both majesty and grave solemnity.
"This is our Bahal family's responsibility - the southern front. Like the western front, it's where demonic beasts swarm most fiercely."
Wanting to impress a friend is only natural. Torres introduced the frontline with chest puffed out in triumph.
Though I'd seen this scene in-game, experiencing it firsthand felt monumentally grander - so awe-inspiring it raised gooseblesh.
Bahal banners fluttered along the battlements while rotting demon beast corpses piled beneath them.
The knights maintained perfect discipline even during Torres' inspection - eyes locked forward, right hands gripping sword hilts.
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
Their thunderous shouts accompanied every step Torres took.
The atmosphere mirrored a general inspecting frontline troops.
'At this level, even a Dead Front wouldn't faze them.'
The Dead Front - a mid-game event where demonic beasts unite in frenzied attacks. Depending on scale, sections collapse like dominos until imperial reinforcements arrive from the royal palace.
My long gaming experience let me instantly assess their Dead Front readiness. Unless overwhelmed by numbers, Bahal's knights wouldn't let a single beast slip through.
-Shing! Whoosh!
A knight suddenly drew his sword, releasing a blade energy that bisected a low-tier demon beast before dissipating. The knight sheathed his weapon, stared impassively at the corpse, then resumed forward vigil.
'Incredible discipline. This is why they're Bahal.'
As I marveled, Torres led me to the central gate where waiting knights saluted.
"We received advance notice. Are you truly leading this personally, Lord Torres?"
"Indeed I am."
Their mission involved forward reconnaissance - normally a squad leader's duty, but Torres insisted on leading.
"If you're going, we should reinforce the unit. Please wait momentarily."
"Unnecessary. This complement suffices."
"But demonic activity has intensified recently. Should anything occur..."
"I know our defensive reserves are stretched. Additional troops would require mobilizing resting personnel - unacceptable."
"Understood. But this person...?"
The knight's expression hardened when seeing me. My eyes betrayed my identity despite the silence. I'd need quality lenses when visiting Frilda.
"...The Arahan everyone mentions?"
"My friend. I wished to show him the southern front."
"Friend? But Arahan is-"
"From the mage family rivaling ours - I'm aware."
"No mage has ever set foot here historically. How will you answer the family head and elders' reprimands?"
"I bear full responsibility. Cease insulting my companion."
"...As you command..."
The knight exhaled deeply before reluctantly opening the gates.
'Ugh.'
The stench of demon blood and rot invaded my nostrils, so vile my stomach lurched. Only my iron constitution prevented humiliating vomit before the knights.
"Move out."
Twenty knights comprised the recon unit.
After final checks, Torres strode through the gate first. When the last knight exited, the closing portal left us in oppressive isolation.
'What's he really planning...?'
Though I'd followed this far, Torres' motives remained unclear. Direct questioning felt inappropriate.
'Maybe for the post-mission party?'
Frontline recon missions lasted up to half a day - grueling operations beyond the walls. Bahal tradition mandated celebrating safe returns with modest parties - simple affairs honoring survival through camaraderie.
'Mutual encouragement for shared hardships.'
Including me in this ritual seemed exactly what a 17-year-old would devise. Torres likely valued these bonding moments like soldiers cherishing post-drill comradery.
'Sentimental indeed.'
Alternatively, he might challenge the unspoken rule barring non-knights from the southern front - smashing stereotypes through direct action.
The complexity defied simple explanation.
'I'll follow for now.'
Young yet shrewd, Torres surely had reasons - whether partying or paradigm-shifting.
Current priorities? Surviving beyond the walls and focusing on reconnaissance.
"Lord Torres! Unknown traces here!"
"All halt."
Knights formed defensive ranks as we approached the anomaly - conifer-shaped marks stretching over 10 meters.
"Unfamiliar traces. Any identification?"
Torres' inquiry met headshakes and puzzled looks.
Yet...
'Wait...'
The pattern struck chords of recognition.
