#022. Veronica's Bookstore (3)
Virtually infinite mana.
Who would have thought dull emotions would become an advantage in magic?
The mental exhaustion from spellcasting had also decreased significantly lately.
Raw mana in the atmosphere.
Mana refined and stored in rings.
They say the former is inferior in quality to the latter.
But wouldn't overwhelming quantity shift the balance?
The boy's eyes gleamed.
He felt a step closer to his revenge.
Tick. Tock. Tick!
He fought head-on in the next game without tricks.
Whirrr—
"Hmph."
Though the old man won, shock painted his face.
Ray's speed had increased dozens of times compared to their first match.
Unbelievable. The element of Sustain is notoriously the hardest to control.
Yet the boy had analyzed its properties and mastered its manipulation in real time.
A genius? No—that word fell short.
He'd even distinguished between Sustain and Persistence elements earlier—something ordinary mages couldn't achieve in lifetimes.
Goosebumps rose on the old man's skin.
This boy might be an uncut gem destined to outshine the world.
One thing became clear:
If I don't give my all, I'll never win another game.
The old man posed a question first:
"You said staying in Sector 50 would've killed you. I want to know who endangered your life."
"A mage."
"Hmm. A mage."
Though curious, he pressed no further.
The boy's wariness demanded cautious approach.
Besides, decades of life experience let him fill most informational gaps through deduction.
Tick. Tock. Tick!
Victory went to the old man—this time by a hair's breadth.
"Do you have dreams?"
"Dreams? Like when sleeping?"
"Your aspirations. What you wish to become or achieve."
"Ah."
Ray fell silent.
His thoughts stalled—no one had ever asked this.
What I want to become.
What I want to do.
My desires.
He'd never seriously considered such things, living only in the present rather than imagining futures.
...Though he did have a goal.
Carved into his mind and heart when Niles and the children died.
But did that count as an aspiration?
Was it something he wanted to do, or had to do?
Or both?
The ambiguity reminded him of two gray mana types divided by faint boundaries.
"There's something I want to do."
"What is it?"
"There's someone I want to kill... and someone I want to save."
The old man's silence stretched.
Plink. Plonk—
Raindrops tapped the window during the quiet.
Merely hours after clear rains ceased, the sky brewed a murky storm.
"I've heard many speak of wanting to kill. But the opposite?"
"......"
Plonk. Plink—
The window shuddered.
Morning darkened as clouds thickened outside.
Tick. Tock. Tick!
Again the old man won, barely overcoming the boy at full strength strength.
"Would you learn magic from me?"
"......"
Ray froze mid-reply.
He'd been answering rapidly to continue their games—this utterly unexpected.
A three-ringed mage offering teachings?
No sane reason to refuse. Yet—
"Why teach a street orphan?"
"I want nothing. Simply learn sincerely."
Confusion deepened.
Ray's world operated on transactions—every action demanded reason or reward.
The old man's words held no discernible motive or emotion.
"Alright."
"Good. I'll observe your skills further. You must have more questions too."
Tick. Tock. Tick!
Ray's next victory didn't surprise the old man.
What came after did.
"Tell me about rainbows."
The request dislodged a faded memory from the old man's mental library.
Thud—
Youthful recollections—barely a few pages—unfolded.
Enough to stir long-buried yearning.
Reaching beyond his bed, the old man summoned a distant drawer's contents through telekinesis:
A thick cigarette and lighter.
Click.
"Indulge an old man nearing death."
"Fine."
Whoosh—
The window slid open.
Grimy smoke matching the outside gloom swirled as he lit up.
Ray didn't react—street life had inured him to the smell.
Unconsciously, Niles' face surfaced in his mind.
After several drags, the old man spoke calmly:
"Rainbows... Where did you hear of them?"
"A seven-colored band. Grants wishes if found."
"Quite knowledgeable."
The old man extinguished his cigarette with wind magic before addressing the door:
"Veronica. Enter."
The girl slipped in, guilty as a caught eavesdropper:
"I wasn't listening! Just waiting for the talk to end!"
"I know. Sit."
She practically skipped to Ray's side.
He studied her mana vessel—
Pure white and deep indigo mana swirling chaotically within.
Worry for the ailing old man.
Anxiety about her siblings' future.
Heavy burdens for one so young.
"Veronica. Why did I adopt you, Malta, and Yulphin?"
"To preserve knowledge. You said we'd spread your wisdom to the world."
"Correct. You should hear this too—it's part of that knowledge."
Knowledge transmission—a mage's instinct.
Mages cultivated colossal egos through lifelong pursuit of truth, craving legacy yet hoarding secrets.
Disciples became the compromise—limited sharing that satisfied both desires.
"Few topics divide mages like rainbows. Some deem them fairy tales, others believe them real."
The old man's gaze turned distant.
"Have you ever seen clear skies?"
Both children pondered.
"Rarely."
"Clouds always return after rain. We hardly look up anyway."
"Exactly. Your total clear sky exposure? Five minutes. Mine? Under thirty."
Plink! Plonk—!
Rain intensified outside.
"The dominant theory claims rainbows are colorful bands in clear skies. Other theories? Hundreds—magic artifacts, transcendent beings..."
He continued:
"But all agree on two points: seven colors, and wish-granting power rivaling gods."
"Anything?"
"Yes. Even godhood, they say."
"...What's a god?"
An earnest question—Sector 50 lacked even a chapel.
"The world's creator. Omnipresent and omnipotent. Definitions vary, but that's the core."
Ray tilted his head.
"Omnipresent?"
"Invisible yet ever-present. Like mana."
A poor analogy—Ray saw mana clearly.
Further explanations left him vaguely understanding gods as unseen observers.
Pervasive and sinister.
"Countless mages still hunt rainbows worldwide. I did too, long ago."
Ray recalled Humpty's words about a one-eyed mage seeking "rainbows."
Even someone that powerful craved their might...
"Then your research materials—"
CRASH—!
A boulder shattered the half-open window.
