The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower-Chapter 203

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 203: Blade and Thread (2)

The man hesitated for a split second.

‘...Should I withdraw the thread?’

If he didn’t retract the Shadowless Thread now, that kid might actually die.

This thread wasn’t just invisible—it boasted unparalleled cutting power.

To charge in like that without realizing it...

‘How the hell did he reach that level with such poor awareness?’

Frustrated to the point of irritation, he finally decided to withdraw the thread.

Not only was the kid someone his senior cared deeply about, but facing his talent firsthand, the man had to admit he found it quite appealing too.

However, the kid’s speed with that Jet Booster was simply too fast.

‘Wait, how did he get that far already?! I don’t have time...!’

Maybe he’d taken too long to decide.

At that speed, the kid’s legs would be completely severed—was there a shrine nearby?

Just as that thought passed through his mind—

Ping!

One of the taut, tensioned threads snapped.

‘What?’

The once-straight Shadowless Thread thread fluttered through the air in soft curves.

The man’s eyes widened at the sight.

‘...He cut it? He cut my Shadowless Thread?’

And by a mere Level 6 mage, no less?

His brain couldn’t keep up with the situation.

It was as if his mind had been paralyzed—his thoughts crawled sluggishly forward.

‘How?’

Sure, the moment he’d decided to retract the thread, he had withdrawn the mana infused into it.

But Shadowless Thread wasn’t just some sewing thread from a local shop.

Even without mana, its sheer durability could deflect most sword aura with ease—an absolute treasure.

‘Even without magic, he managed to cut Shadowless Thread.’

The answer to how such a thing was possible stood right before him.

That kid—already far away from him now.

‘...No.’

After cutting Shadowless Thread, he could no longer be called just a kid.

Unaware of it himself, the man's lips curled ever so slightly in amusement.

“Fine!”

If he was that eager to show off, then let him try escaping the clearing and proving his worth.

The man reinfused mana into the thread.

The Shadowless Thread now gleamed with a sharpness and durability far beyond before.

“......”

Oscar’s brow twitched slightly at the change.

‘So, he was holding back earlier.’

It made sense—his first impression of the thread had been far more threatening than how easily it had snapped.

Still, having come this far, he had no intention of backing down now.

‘Wind Cutter.’

A blade of wind formed—so perfect, Damian would’ve drooled at the sight.

He layered High-Speed Rotation and Vibration on top.

Then, he stacked Jet Booster to push the spin to its absolute limit.

Oscar swung it toward the threads barring his path.

CRACKCRACKCRACK!

As the wind blade clashed with the thread, sparks flew.

‘...So this is Shadowless Thread infused with mana.’

It wouldn’t cut.

Oscar looked at his Wind Cutter, its edge already dulled, and withdrew his mana.

A mocking voice drifted from behind.

“Told you—it won’t work.”

“......”

Oscar didn’t even glance at him.

Eyes fixed on the thread, he spoke quietly.

“Wind Cutter.”

“Hmph. Not too bright, are you? You just saw that it didn’t work...”

Ignoring the man, Oscar closed his eyes and formed another spell.

This time, it wasn’t High-Speed Rotation, Vibration, or even Jet Booster.

── Space

The most harmonious attribute of the White Tower: Wind.

Now, the antithesis of that element seeped into the Wind Cutter.

The once-pure blade turned a deep violet, echoing the vastness of the cosmos.

This was the result of two years secluded in a subspace, training to completion.

A power symbolizing the new path he’d chosen in this life—different from his past.

‘...I lived a rather indecisive life.’

He had believed it was natural for the strong to bear more burdens, to sacrifice more for others.

He hadn’t realized, at the time, that his choices placed undue hardship on the people he cared about.

Maybe that lingering regret was what led to the question he asked himself at the end of his past life.

‘What if I had lived a selfish life, one where I only cared for my own people?’

Still, he didn’t deny the path he’d taken back then.

It had value—and someone had to walk it.

‘Then and now, the truth remains: I will always be selfish.’

Even now, he might feel guilt or regret over his past choices—but never remorse.

Even if he returned to that moment, staring down at the Fortress, being forced to choose—he would kill the Demon Emperor all over again.

He would make the same choice.

‘...But this time, I want a different outcome.’

The new power he’d gained for that purpose was Space.

A mysterious attribute granted only to a chosen few.

He was certain—if he wielded this power, he could create the future he longed for.

Even without sleep, without dreams, every time he closed his eyes he saw the same vision:

Killing the Demon Emperor.

Supporting his wounded allies.

Returning to the White Tower.

His disciples pouting, asking why he was so late.

Marlon, the Deputy-Tower Master, smiling kindly and saying, “You’ve done well.”

“......”

This magic was the final piece—the dream he never completed in his previous life.

The power that would ensure he’d never lose his loved ones again.

Slowly, Oscar opened his eyes and his lips parted.

“Void Cutter.”

A blade that slices through entire domains by painting the attribute of space over the canvas of wind.

At the moment of its completion, a vast ocean of mana began to ebb away like the tide.

‘It may look simple, but I have to constantly anchor space to the phase surface of the wind.’

Space is fundamentally different from flame, lightning, water, or wind.

It’s a property that doesn’t exist in this world to begin with.

Forcing something like that into existence and layering it over matter—of course it consumes immense mana.

‘But still.’

It’s a spell worth that price.

Oscar looked ahead at the line blocking his path.

Shadowless.

As if some grim and dark thread with no shadow at all was calling out.

Challenging him—to see whether this new blade could wound it.

“……”

The man watching the scene unconsciously swallowed hard.

The pressure.

The aura radiating from that 6th-level mage far exceeded his expectations.

‘I thought he was just another promising youth with a bright future and plenty of potential…’

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Now, he had no choice but to admit it.

That one is different.

More than a hundred flattering words, it was that violet blade before him that proved it.

“……”

It was unlike Shadowless.

The blade, tinged with light brighter than moonlight, was proclaiming its existence to the entire world.

Its radiant glow was so dazzling it almost stole his gaze.

What he felt from it surpassed the realm of mere magic.

‘The manifestation of the mind.’

Something even most Masters can’t pull off—yet this 6th-level brat had done it.

The man gave a dry laugh before shutting his mouth again.

He felt it instinctively.

That each second passing now was a moment of great enlightenment for Oscar.

‘I’m not thrilled about being some greenhorn’s training instructor… but I guess there’s no choice.’

Ting!

Shadowless trembled lightly, provoking its opponent.

In response, Oscar moved the spatial blade with nothing but a glance.

Neither fast nor slow—an utterly calm pace.

But where the blade passed, no sound, wind, or even mana remained.

A perfect severing.

“……”

Seeing his threads cut so effortlessly, the man involuntarily clenched his fists.

Narrowing his eyes, he recalled the moment just before.

‘Shadowless wasn’t merely cut.’

Thread doesn’t lose length no matter where you slice it.

But the threads severed by that violet blade were clearly shorter.

That could only mean one thing.

‘The part of the thread that touched the blade was completely erased.’

Literal annihilation.

The man shook his head, half in disbelief.

‘No way thread alone can stop that thing…’

Indeed, Oscar walked forward with the ease of someone out for a stroll.

The violet blade at his side casually erased the obstructing threads, as if annoyed by them.

Vooooom.

Every time the blade neared, the threads that spread like cobwebs across the clearing trembled.

As if they felt fear.

“There’s no point in continuing this test any longer.”

Concluding, the man extended his hand and retrieved all the threads.

Clack!

As his feet touched the ground, Oscar slowly turned his body.

The dazed look in his eyes cleared, as if breaking free from a trance.

“Did you find any new insight?”

“…Thanks to you. I’m grateful.”

“Don’t mention it. I got to witness something impressive too.”

To be clear, he hadn’t yet reached 7th level.

But it was safe to say he had broken through the middle of 6th level.

The man glanced at Oscar and muttered bluntly:

“Your growth rate isn’t normal. You’re probably much farther along than you think. You realize that?”

“I’ve been getting a sense of it.”

“…Tch, geniuses are always so annoying. Not that I’m not a genius myself.”

Shaking his head, he continued.

“I’m not just saying this. Really think about what it means.”

“I understand.”

“Remember—everyone falls down. And if you trip while running as fast as you do, it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar knew exactly what he meant.

He himself used to say those words to younger comrades who seemed on a dangerous path in his past life.

Of course, that didn’t mean he planned to slow down.

“I’ll keep running, but I’ll be careful not to trip.”

“…So you still refuse to say you’ll slow down, huh?”

“I refuse with every fiber of my being.”

“Ugh, so stubborn. Fine, whatever. It’s late—go back to your room.”

“I haven’t heard the results of the test yet.”

“…What do you think it means when a grown man tells you to go to your room at this hour? Your departure isn’t far off—go manage your condition.”

Despite the man’s gruff tone, a smile formed on Oscar’s lips.

“Thank you, Puppeteer.”

“Don’t thank me… and what’s with the ‘Puppeteer’? Should I start calling you ‘Noble’ too?”

Irritated, he squinted one eye and waved dismissively.

“Oran Quil. That’s my name. Use that from now on.”

“…I’ll see you in three days, Mr. Oran.”

After Oscar bowed lightly and left the clearing, Oran grumbled under his breath.

“Can’t he just talk normally? So stiff, that kid.”

Clicking his tongue, he glanced around at the ravaged clearing, then clapped his hands.

At his gesture, hundreds of threads moved like living creatures, reattaching fallen trees to their stumps.

Soon, the place that had been a battlefield returned to a peaceful forest, full of the scent of grass.

“They’d fix it anyway if I just left it be…”

Remembering the scolding he got for cutting down trees, Oran shook his head.

He looked in the direction Oscar had vanished and muttered quietly:

“…Well, at least one of those trees was worth saving.”

[Translator - Night]

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